Falling
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Sometimes you fall fast and hard, others you fall so slow you don't realize it until you're kissing the ground. Those are the ones you don't bounce back from. FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N MUST READ**: _So, pieces of this have been in my head since Lie to Me and X-Factor aired, and has been in my hard drive for almost as long. If you remember, Emily's been in LA for five years, according to Lie to Me, but X-Factor made it seemed like shorter (didn't know who Sam was?) It wasn't logical to me, but I like the idea that Matt and Emily were coworkers years before they were partnered, I built this off that idea, and struggled to make sense of what the shows writers left us with. _

* * *

"Hey, did you guys see that new negotiator yet?" Matt asked, joining Frank, Temple, Binder, and Jerry and Billy, two HRT agents. He was the last to arrive for their morning target practice, coffee and donuts, a tradition they'd kept for nearly two years at that point.

"No, no sign of her yet. I heard she's Miss Rules though. Steer clear, Flannery." It was common knowledge that Matt tended to use some less than traditional methods with his HTs; it was what made him so good.

"Gladly, I don't need someone else to quote the FBI manual in my ear, that's what I have Cheryl for."

"Yeah, thank god you do, how many times has that poor woman had to defend your sorry ass and some crazy thing you said to get an HT down?" Frank asked him with a grin.

Matt nodded, "Remind me to get her something nice for Christmas this year."

"Who's this woman being partnered with anyway?" Billy asked, his ocean blue eyes darting around the room, searching for an answer.

"I heard it was Wyatt, his partner just retired."

"Isn't Wyatt due to retire soon too?" Temple asked his partner.

"He should, doesn't much do anything now, but they can't make him yet. God knows she'll be doing most of the heavy lifting in that partnership." Binder shrugged.

"That's a weak pairing, an old man and a woman?" Jerry shook his head.

"Man, do not let Cheryl hear you saying that shit," Frank warned the young man, while Matt rolled his eyes. Cheryl was the best partner he'd had to date, in the Bureau and LAPD, and the rest had been guys.

Jerry just shrugged. Maybe he was just old fashioned, but he would take a guy watching his back over a woman any day; he just didn't trust a chick to pull the trigger when it counted.

"You know, I've got a friend in the Phoenix office, where this new negotiator is from. He says she's really smart, a shrink, she knows all that psycho-babble crap." Temple commented, his position on female agents was akin to Matt's.

"Oh Jesus, that's all we need," Matt groaned, while his colleagues snickered; his distaste for the psych professions was well known.

"This will make you feel better Matt, he also said that she's hot, really hot."

"How the hell can a goody-goody, bookworm-shrink be hot? She probably looks like my middle school librarian." Matt was not convinced.

"Odds are that a few geeks have to be hot, right?" Frank pointed out.

"Yeah, well to cancel out all that she better be the entire 2002 Playboy calendar rolled into one woman." Jerry laughed.

"Nice Jerry," Cheryl rolled her eyes, and looked pointedly at the gaggle of men. She arrived only to hear that last part of the conversation, but could guess what they were discussing.

"Sorry Cheryl, guy talk." The HRT agent shrugged.

"Well the woman you're all talking about just got here, and Lea is expecting the negotiators up there to make intros. You too Frank." She was referring to their boss, the SAC of the CNU, Special Agent Carpenter Lea, a victim of parents with poor naming skills.

"So is she hot?" Billy asked, as the three negotiators and Frank got up to follow Cheryl.

"Billy, do you really expect me to answer that?"

* * *

"Oh, here they all are, Emily." Lea guided her out his office door, cutting off their conversation. She'd already met her new partner Wyatt Manner, and Cheryl Carrera, one of the negotiators in the Unit, but had several others to meet.

She watched the group approach, all white males, except for Cheryl, who was looking unimpressed at something they were saying. Two men with short, dark sandy-colored hair were speaking quickly to each other, bodies angled just slightly in the way partners tended to pick up. A tall muscular man with lighter hair, and facial hair on his chin and above his lip carried himself in a much less preppy manner; his black clothing suggested HRT. The last man she saw was the most interesting. His thick hair was jet black, his eyes dark brown, and he wore jeans and a dark t-shirt, a diversion from his fellow negotiators khaki and blouse look. He walked with a laid-back swagger, and she wondered how someone with such obvious authority issues ever came to work for the FBI.

"Hey Boss," the man she assumed to be with HRT greeted.

"Gentleman, I'd like you all to meet Special Agent Emily Lehman, our transfer from the Phoenix office. She comes highly recommended, so do me a favor and don't scare her away. And Emily, this is Frank Rogers, Commander of HRT, and our three other negotiators: Kevin Binder and Andrew Temple are partners, and this is Matt Flannery, Cheryl's partner cause she's the only one that will put up with him." He went from man to man so quickly Emily barely registered their names.

When she shook hands with the last man, the one who swaggered, she caught his dark eyes, and something in them caused her to stare a little too long. She cursed herself silently, sure that if she hadn't caught herself at that second, she would have fallen into the dark orbs.

Matt was startled when their eyes met, and he hesitated before turning away. Her hazel eyes weren't the cold, distant ones he had come to expect from the by-the-book agents, and she definitely didn't look like a librarian. Her blue jeans hugged her long legs, and her curly red hair hung over the back of the camisole that showed off her slim stomach and the curve of her breasts. They seemed in direct contrast to the child-like dimples that sat on the corners of her mouth when she smiled. He swallowed and turned away, and scolding himself, _shit Flannery get a grip, she's your coworker, not some chick you can pick up from a bar and forget about the next day_.

"Agent Lehman doesn't start until Monday, but she wanted to come in early an meet you clowns. Wyatt, you can give her the grand tour now," he instructed breaking up the informal meeting. The grey-haired man nodded, and led Emily away from the group, and down a hallway, talking as he went.

Frank was the first to speak once she was out of earshot, "Matt, man, _tell me_ you're middle school librarian didn't look like _that_."

Lea and Cheryl looked confused, as Matt answered. "She might be hot, but she's still a shrink."

"A really, really hot shrink." Temple corrected him.

"Now that's about enough of that." Lea shook his head at them.

"Come on Lea, they didn't remove your balls when they promoted you. You think she's hot, admit it." Frank teased him.

"Rogers my opinion is irrelevant, she's my subordinate. _And_, she's your coworker. I've been fortunate that Cheryl's too smart to give any of you the time of day, don't make me worry about any of you trying to hook up with Lehman." God, that is the last thing he needed, two of his agents fooling around.

"Scout's honor, boss." Frank held up to fingers, and tried not to laugh.

"You're a riot, Frank. Go make yourself useful. Oh, and she has to qualify under you Monday, new location and all of that."

"Oh, I can arrange that." Frank grinned at his boss's unintentional 'under' reference.

"Frank, you're a pig," Cheryl mumbled, while the rest of the guys snickered and laughed.

Matt laughed, but his mind wasn't on the conversation, but those dimples. Emily Lehman looked nothing like he expected, nothing like a walking rulebook, or any shrink he'd ever met. He shook himself out of his thoughts, and followed Cheryl back to their cubicle, bound for paperwork.

* * *

Later that night, Emily was in her new apartment, dialing Jill, her girlfriend from Phoenix. She stood by the window, cell phone in one hand (landline hookup would take a few days), and cigarette in the other. She'd gotten hooked in high school, a way to calm her stressed mind whenever something happened with Ally, or she had a particularly miserable day at school. Aside from a few girlfriends insisting that they'd kill her, and a few guys whining about the smell, she hadn't found a reason to quit.

"Hey Em, how's LA?" Jill greeted her happily when she picked up.

"So far, interesting."

"Oh god, Emily, you didn't walk in there and start analyzing them all, did you?"

"Only in my head, I never said anything out loud." She took a drag, and held it in her lungs a few seconds before blowing it out.

"Oh no, are you smoking?" Her tone was upset now, and disappointed. Jill had almost gotten her to quit while she was in Phoenix, but it just didn't take.

"Yes, and spare me the lecture, please. I didn't call to talk about my bad habits." Emily rolled her eyes heavenward, and hoped Jill wouldn't nag her.

"Fine, fine, so then tell me what's so interesting about LA?"

"The guys don't have boundaries, everywhere I went in the building today there were eyes on my cleavage."

"Sweetie, it's LA, they're probably amazed to see real boobs, you know without silicone." Emily giggled at her.

"Nice. Oh, and they partnered me with an old man." _That _was a disappointment for her, because it was a safe bet she'd be riding a desk most of the time.

"Really, like fifty?"

"No, more like sixty. I mean, I thought this was supposed to be a promotion, you know, busier city, crazier people. Now, I get to sit around with Grandpa Joe?" She could hear Jill laughing on the other end of the line.

"You never know, Grandpa Joe might be really good in bed."

"What! Eww, Jill! Besides, he's my partner, I'm not going to have sex with my partner, too many problems there. And, there's better looking guys than him in the office." She listed all the reasons her new partner would not be a good bedfellow.

"Oooh! Tell me about them!" Nothing intrigued Jill Kincaid more than good-looking men, with the exception of a particularly nutty HT.

"The boss isn't bad looking, late forties, brunette, has kind of the distinguished gentleman look about him. Head of HRT here, is much better looking than Cal," Cal Donahue, head of HRT in Phoenix looked like an experiment breeding groundhogs and pigs gone horribly wrong. "Then there are two other teams of negotiators, one has two guys, sandy hair, mid-thirties, not bad-looking, but definitely of the settle down with a wife and kids variety. Then there is Cheryl, there is only one female negotiator in the office besides me, I was disappointed, I expected more…" She took another drag, finishing the cigarette, and crumpled it in the ash tray.

"Honey, I'm not impressed so far, move along, who's the fox of the office?"

"That would be the other negotiator, I think his name is Matt. Dark hair, dark eyes, doesn't like authority or rules, very attractive with that rebel thing going for him."

"You always did like the bad boys, Emily. Watch out with that, it could get you into trouble."

"He's hardly a bad boy, Jill." Emily rolled her eyes, though her friend had a point, Emily was most attracted to rule breakers, ironic considering how well she followed rules.

"By FBI standards he's a tattooed, Jack-guzzling, leather-clad biker. No wonder you like him."

"Jill, I don't _like _him, this isn't the fourth grade, I just think he's attractive."

"So why are you on the phone with me, why aren't you in his bed right now?"

"Jill! I work with him remember, no sleeping with coworkers." Emily shook her head, Jill had enjoyed a friends with benefits situation with at least three of her coworkers throughout the years, and couldn't understand Emily's reluctance.

Jill sighed. "Probably better anyway, you need to stop the parade of bad boys and find yourself a nice guy."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah? Who had to pick you up the night before I left, because your date got aggressive?"

"That's different, he was a bastard." Emily rolled her eyes again.

"Whatever, but you should be more careful, I'm not around anymore to wake up at two o'clock in the morning." They were getting too old for all of that anyway.

"Yeah, right back at you Em. Remember I'm not the only one that gets into trouble."

"Noted mom, now I have to go and unpack."

"Alright, but just one last thing, how many cigarettes have you had these last two days?" She'd managed to get her best friend down to one and a half, and wanted to make sure she wasn't lapsing in her new environment.

"Uh eight." Emily cringed as she blatantly lied.

"Your lying."

"Fine, somewhere just south of a pack." She relented.

"Emily!" Jill's voice went up at least six octaves.

"I don't need to be scolded Jill, it's a transition, I'm allowed to relapse a little." Any shrink would agree with her on that, or at least that it's common.

"Fine, but please, please only smoke five tomorrow?" She begged painfully.

"I promise to try, okay?" God, the guilt worked far better than anything else.

"Thank you, now go unpack." Emily bid her goodbye, and surveyed the mound of boxes in her new living room. She had two days to turn her small apartment into her new home, and learn the city streets.

And she'd just promised to quit smoking again.

Excellent.

* * *

_I know, some characters might seem a little OOC (Emily, cigarettes), but this is designed to be a full look at Matt and Emily's relationship, starting when she comes to LA until after what they show us on the show. They will become the characters we know. That being said, thanks for reading and please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

A month later she'd settled into Los Angeles pretty well, and actually liked her new coworkers. Her new partner was ancient, but at least he had a sense of humor, and was good at chastising her male coworkers with just looks. Now, most of them spoke to her face, rather than breasts, and rude jokes were kept to a minimum. It became clear early on that Cheryl and Matt were the SAC's favorites, both very talented negotiators that he tended to send out most frequently. It also became clear that Matt was as nontraditional in his methods as his demeanor suggested, and Cheryl spent her considerable talents saving his ass from being chewed out. Then again, he defended her just as readily when she did something questionable in the eyes of their superiors.

Today she would begin teaching a class, one of the reasons they chose to send her to L.A.; she had experience teaching from her graduate years. For three of her five years working for her doctorate, she'd taught classes to undergraduates. Basic psych, behavioral psych, specialized courses geared to working with criminals, she busted her ass for her free tuition. She found she actually enjoyed teaching, though not nearly as much as she did talking to HTs. Unfortunately, now she was completely lost trying to find the room she was supposed to teach in. Theoretically, logic would dictate room 3942 would be on the 39th floor, where the CNU was, but there didn't seem to be any 42. Any she couldn't imagine it being room 942 on the third floor, so she continued looking.

"Hey, you lost Lehman?" She turned abruptly to find Matt Flannery swaggering behind her, and smiled back at him.

"Actually, yes. Where's room 3942?"

"What?"

"3942?" Oh great, had they screwed up, did the room not exist?

"Let me see the paper." He looked confused as she handed it over, not too proud to accept his help.

"Oh, they screwed up, there's no nine. It's 342, 3942 would have a slash between the 39 and 42, if it existed."

"Okay, so where's 342?" She was going to be late if she had to search around again.

"Three floors below street level, a floor above our files. You know how to get down there?" She shook her, looking at him dubiously. Heights she didn't mind, being stuck beneath the surface, that freaked her out a bit.

"Come on, I'll take you." He cocked his head toward the elevators and waited for her to proceed him.

"So where are you from?" He poked the button for the lobby.

"East Coast, Albany. You?"

"Right here in LA, born and raised. You like the west?" He noted she seemed a little uncomfortable, and wondered why, but didn't ask her.

"Very much, though I don't think I've ever seen this many fake boobs and faces in one city in my life." That was something that stunned her about LA.

"Try being a guy and dating here, you're never quite sure if everything is real until you're in the bedroom. Ass implants are just not a good idea." Matt shivered involuntarily at the memory, setting Emily off laughing.

"What? There is nothing more disturbing then grabbing a fistful of cheek and finding it rock hard. At least boobs are pretty obvious, and you expect it." She started laughing even harder.

"I'm sorry, that's just…wow, you my have sympathy. And, I'm proud to say, I'm one hundred percent real." _Oh god, did she just come on to him, accidentally? Was he going to take an innocent comment as an offer?_

_Whoa…did she just…was that…was she suggesting we hook up? _Matt's eyes widened, it wasn't that he hadn't thought about it, but damn, a coworker? Bad idea right there. Then he saw the equally stunned look on her face, and decided to respond as if the comment was nothing.

"Then you are one of the few, Lehman." _Last name, good, less personal. _

"Oh lobby, where to from here?" God, she really wanted a smoke, or even half of one, but she had promised Jill, and more importantly, had her class.

"This way," he pointed. "So what do they have you doing down here anyway?"

"Uh, I'm teaching some of the crisis negotiation classes." He directed them around the corner, to another elevator bank, and hit the three button.

"Really? Good luck with that, a bunch of Bureau guys won't be an easy crowd."

"If I can handle a class of three-hundred rowdy freshman, I can handle a couple dozen Bureau." That class had been hellish, the psych 101 course that every undergrad had to take as a university wide general education course.

"Damn, you taught college?" She couldn't have been more than thirty, and he knew she was with the Bureau for the last four years.

"Yeah, while I was getting my doctorate."

"That's right, you're a shrink." She really just didn't seem like a shrink.

"I can't dispense meds, but yes, a psychologist." She followed him out of the elevator, down a hallway that was an untold distance into the Earth.

"You okay, you look a little queasy?"

"Yeah, I just don't like basements…"

"There's no spiders down here, only rats and they don't come out much." He teased.

"They don't bother me, there's just something about the weight of the Earth all around you," she gestured with her hands as she tried to swallow deep breaths.

"Are you going to be able to teach down here?" He looked at her uneasily.

"Yeah, I just need a cigarette, there a closest I can hide it somewhere around here?" She swiveled her head, still breathing in and out deliberately.

He was about to comment on the dangers of smoking, but she seemed to get greener, and he thought better of it. "This way."

He led her through a couple of hallways to an abandoned storage room, a landfill for all the Bureau's crap that needed storing.

Emily was already lighting up as he shut the door, sounding like she was on the verge of hyperventilating. She took a long drag, sucking in the nicotine into her lungs, soothing her hyperactive nerves. Matt stood silently by, watching as she took several more drags, calming more with each one, until the cigarette was out, and her color was normal.

"Better?"

She nodded, embarrassed, "yeah, sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it, everybody has something to set them off…you ever ridden a subway?" He was curious, this was a fear very new to him.

"A couple times, wasn't a great experience." She nibbled on her lower lip.

"I figured…you good to go?"

"Yep, lead the way."

* * *

After a year working in LA, Emily was happy as a clam; her class had be moved up into the CNU by the end of that first week, when the upper-ups had seen how good it was. Matt hadn't mentioned her panic attack to any of their coworkers, something she was eternally grateful to him for. He'd let it go that day, deciding he liked this new negotiator too much to kick her when she was down. God knew he had his own demons to set him off that seemed ridiculous to most people, namely dogs and hospitals. He even pulled his gun on one of those yippy little fuzz balls once, when it ran toward him on a sidewalk, attacking his ankles. It's bleach-blond, 80 fake owner, shot him a scandalized look and scooped up her precious little shit.

His mind was focused elsewhere as he walked into work that day, carrying a large cup of coffee, exhausted after dodging phone calls from his ex all night. The crazy bitch just wouldn't let up, insisted he had to talk to her, that it wasn't over yet, when it had be over for longer than a month. She kept calling at all hours, home, cell and work lines, and came to his apartment, begging for a second chance. They had dated for the longest four months of his life, and he was thrilled to get rid of her, or at least he thought he was getting rid of her when he dumped her five weeks ago.

"Matt! Matt Sweetie!" A familiar voice called to him, and heard her the pattern of her walk as her heels clicked against the sidewalk.

"Angie, for Christsake, it's over, okay? Leave me alone!" He turned and begged her.

"But, Matt baby, it can't be, I miss you so much!" She pouted, her eyes getting watery.

"I'm sorry Ange, but it's over. It was terrible while it lasted, it's best to just end it. Don't you get that?" His exasperation prevented him from being too sympathetic.

"Oh, it wasn't so bad. I love you, Matt, please, please, don't leave me." She began to cry, pathetic crocodile tears. It was a show, meant to guilt him. The woman was a narcissistic control freak, who lived only to try and run his life.

"Angie, please stop this. I will take out a restraining order if I have to." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emily walking toward the building, shifting her bag in her hands. Great, this was about to get very embarrassing, and he would look like a total dick.

"You wouldn't do that, Matty. Too much of a hassle. Besides, you love me, I know you do. You can't make love to a woman like that, and not be in love with her."

Emily stopped and raised her eyebrows at Matt, only feet away from his argument, facing him. He saw the surprised, yet mildly amused look on her face, and offered a painful one of his own, which seemed to amuse her more.

"It's called being a good lover, Angela. Now, please stop calling me, stop coming to see me, stop stalking me! Please!" He tried not to sound too pathetic as he begged, but whatever would get her away.

Emily's eyebrows raised at the mention of her as a stalker, this wasn't just some bimbo who he forgot to call, the woman was creepy. Putting her shrink skills to use, she decided to stop it before it got worse. If a fledgling stalker, focused on a relationship feels their victim moved on, they might too, if they haven't been fixated too long. Here goes nothing, she thought.

Literally stepping in the middle of their conversation, she pressed herself against him, and captured his lips in hers, stealing a kiss. Finally, she pulled back, and smiled as if nothing was amiss. "Hey honey, who's your friend?"

After his initial shock, Matt caught the look in her eye, and put on his best award-worthy performance. "Just an old friend, babe."

"Oh, how nice. I'm Emily, nice to meet you…?"

"Uh…uh…Angela," she answered when her mouth finally closed, and her face fell to the ground in defeat. "It was nice to see you Matt."

She walked quickly away, head turned away, so they couldn't see the very real tears brewing in her eyes.

"Uh, thanks for, um…that." Matt struggled to think clearly after that kiss, that very surprising, but very good kiss.

"No problem," she echoed his words from almost a year ago. "How long has she been stalking you?"

He saw the concern in her eyes, and noted the kiss didn't seem to faze her at all. Good thing he couldn't read her mind.

Oh god that was good. Stop that, pretend it was perfectly normal, he won't know it made you a little dizzy.

"Uh five weeks, since I broke up with her."

"Oh, well then, just in time. Next time, call the police before now, if she fixates long enough, she'll become dangerous." All business, good girl.

"Right, yeah I know. It's just different when it's your ex, and not some wacky HT. It doesn't seem like it could ever be that bad."

"Hmm, I can see that." She checked her watch. "We better get inside."

"Right."

No sooner had they entered the bullpen, when they notice people looking at them strange, with smirks almost. They both realized what was going on at the same moment; someone had seen them, and reported back to the whole department.

"Flannery, Lehman, my office, now." Lea came up to them, looking very angry, and led the way back to his office, their coworkers making kissie faces, and smirking the whole way, except Cheryl, who seemed to chastise Matt with just a look.

"So, want to explain to me what's been going on with you two?" He looked more than angry, almost unimaginably pissed.

"Oh sir, about that. Completely my fault." Emily was quick to take the blame, apparently stunning their boss, who dropped his folded arms, and stared at her in surprise.

"You see, Agent Flannery was having trouble with an ex-girlfriend who has been stalking him for over a month now. I felt that she wasn't dangerous yet, but allowed to continue harassing Agent Flannery she could be, so I intervened. You see sir, if she thought he had moved on, was unavailable, she would move on herself. I pretended to be his girlfriend, and it seemed to work, she left, and it's my professional opinion that she won't be back to bother him." How she could be that professional and calm discussing that kiss, Emily would never be able to quite figure out, but thanked her training anyway.

Lea turned to Matt, "is that true Flannery?"

Matt took his eyes off Emily, which had been glued to her during her narration. "Uh, yes sir."

"Well then, you're dismissed, and Agent Lehman, good thinking on your feet." He still seemed bewildered by the whole thing.

"Thank you sir." Emily answered, as they walked through the open door, earning wide-eyes and open mouths from their coworkers. None could figure out why that hadn't had their asses served up to them on silver platters.

* * *

Oddly, that was not the day that set the two negotiators to looking at each other in a different way. It happened in the sweltering heat of late August 2004, three years after Emily began working at the LA CNU. Cheryl was in court, testifying to a negotiation she was primary in, Wyatt was getting his heart examined in an echocardiogram, and Temple and Binder were already deployed in the field. That left Matt and Emily nearly alone in the office, especially since Lea and HRT were out at the negotiation site. That's why they both jumped when Matt's phone rang, cutting through the silence of the room.

"Flannery." He picked it up, listening a moment, before motioning Emily toward him, and hitting the speaker button.

"I just got another call in, I need you both to get moving ASAP." Emily recognized the voice of their superior.

"Where to?" Matt wondered.

"Escaped convict up North, they are going to chopper you guys to Oregon. State police and state HRT are already on the scene, they are just waiting on you guys. The guy has a woman, her infant, and two little kids hostage, dragged them into a coal mine. State troopers say they have him barricaded inside, but he's about 1200 feet below the surface. They tossed him a CB radio, only thing that works down there, only when they are close enough though. State PD is waiting to go down there until you guys get there."

Matt had watched Emily's eyes steadily widening, as their boss explained, and now fear burned inside them. He turned quickly back to the phone.

"I can go sir, but you sure there is no one else that can come with?" Emily shot him a grateful look.

"No, nobody. Why, is something wrong with Lehman?"

"No sir, I'm fine. We'll gear up, and head out immediately." There was a woman and three scared children that needed them, she'd deal with it.

"Oh, one more thing you should know; the mine has been abandoned for some years, and they aren't convinced it's stable. Damn thing could come crashing down any minute, so time is a factor."

"Copy." Matt confirmed, before listening for the click, and disconnecting. Emily had the same green tinge to her skin she'd worn two years ago, going down three flights to a safe, well light, clean floor of the federal building. Shit.

"Can you do this?"

"Yeah, just let me buy another pack of cigarettes before we go." Emily wasn't going to panic, wasn't going to freak out, or imagine being trapped 1200 feet beneath the ground in a dark, wet mine, as it began to collapse around them.

* * *

_I'm glad people like this story, I've got lots of plans for it! Thanks for reading and thank you to my reviewers!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry this took so long, a virus infected my computer a few days ago, and I spent nine hours trying to kill it. Also, warning this chapter gets a little vulgar._

* * *

An hour later they were within minutes from their destination, Emily having grown greener, and Matt watching her nervously. He had never worked a negotiation with her, though he had sat in on her class on occasion, and had heard only good things about her in the field. He was worried she'd panic underground, hell, he kind of wanted to run screaming. It might collapse, are you kidding? He watched her hands twitched, tapping the fresh pack of Newports, still wrapped in plastic and sitting securely in her hand. She clearly wanted to bust the pack open, and start smoking until there was none left, but the pilot wouldn't hear of it.

They went over a long stretch of dense evergreens, and there it was, what looked like a cave opening, surrounded by a dozen radio cars, and a few unmarkeds, likely local politicians. Emily's stomach lurched when she saw it, and she squeezed the pack of cigarettes tighter in her hand. Oh god, she had to go in that thing, stay calm enough to negotiate the release of four hostages, and get out before it collapsed. She momentarily wished she still believed in the God her parents brought her up to love and fear, just so she would have some one to pray to, to beg for a little courage.

The chopper touched down, and they were met by the head of Oregon state HRT, who was much shorter than either imagined, and head almost smooth shaved. He was also much younger than his rank would usually suggest, and had a light in his eyes that screamed he was ready to do battle.

"You must be Agents Flannery and Lehman. Duff Gonzalez, HRT Assistant-Commander. I'll brief you as we head down there." He had to yell to be heard over the whoosh of the chopper blades as it lifted off the ground, away from the scene. He was surprised himself, he hadn't expected a female negotiator, let alone a hot one that looked like she was going to be sick.

"I'm Matt Flannery," Matt shook the man's hand, and then pointed to his partner, "Emily Lehman."

"Pleasure, have you had any contact since we got the call?" Jump right into work, good, keep yourself distracted, Emily breathed deeply as she coached herself.

"No, we just got him contained." The HRT Commander explained as he led them into the dark mine, lamps strung up by HRT lighting their way.

"He just kept going deeper and farther into the mine, until he couldn't move anymore. Right now he's in a 20 ft chamber, roundish shape, best we can determine. There is a four foot wide hallway from that to another chamber, all looks like spots they chose to dig for coal. I have two guys in that one, watching out the door, in case he tries to bolt." Duff continued, walking onto an open elevator, and shutting the metal doors, before nodding to the agent already inside to hit the red button.

With a jolt, they began their descent, and Emily's pulse began jumping wildly out of control. She could feel her breathing becoming heavier, and decided now was time to break out the cigarettes.

"We figure you to can set up in the chamber behind that one, it's about thirty feet, and juts out to the left, so you'll be a safe distance. He's got a talkie, but hasn't said anything, and we've been waiting for you." He watched Emily fish around for her lighter, and pull it out just as she stuck a cigarette between her lips. A flash of red-orange, overly bright in the dark of the cave, and she sucked a long drag into her tortured lungs. He felt compelled to comment.

"You know, you probably shouldn't smoke in here."

Emily looked at him, something akin to belligerence flashing in her eyes, besides the desperation already there.

"Just let her smoke," Matt told him, shaking his head. If it was what she needed to get through the mine, then she could have as many cancer sticks as she could wrangle up.

Duff nodded, but studied the nervous agent. "Are you alright? This isn't like your first time is it?"

"No, I've been a negotiator for seven years, I just don't like being underground." She finished the first cigarette six hundred feet down, and used it to light another, for the next six hundred.

"I hear you, they say this thing wasn't too stable when they closed it, twenty years to rot couldn't have helped matters." He looked wearily around him, at the darkness surrounding them. He hadn't wanted to bring his men down here, but what choice did he have?

"Thanks, exactly what I needed to hear," Emily mumbled inhaling deeply, causing her partner and the HRT agents to laugh.

"We're coming to the bottom Duff," the agent controlling the elevator announced.

Matt felt Emily tense up beside him, and she began to inhale her cigarette faster, in time with her faster breathing. Three years ago, the cigarettes stopped the near hyperventilating, but now she was struggling to maintain her composure after smoking two. Matt reached for her hand, not difficult in the cramped elevator, and grabbing hold, squeezed it. She turned to him surprised at first, but then she offered a grateful grimace, and squeezed back.

The elevator creaked and jerked before setting down on the hard ground, and the negotiators really studied their surroundings for the first time. Drips chimed, echoing from somewhere in the cavernous chamber, and a hollowing rushing sound testified to the existence of small streams within the dense, rocky ground. When the light managed to hit a wall, water reflected the light back, and shimmered against the walls. The mine was enormous, and they stared around in awe, unable to comprehend it's sheer magnitude.

"Here, this way, we've got a little walk, and keep your voices down, there's a hell of an echo, and we don't want Peterson hearing."

"That's our HT? Can you tell us about him?" Matt had let go of Emily's hand as they climbed off the elevator, and now walked behind her, watching her carefully for any sign of panic. Her cigarettes and lighter were still clutched tightly in her hand, but she hadn't lit another yet.

"Detroit Peterson, mean son of a bitch. Broke out of the federal Pen in Washington, after serving five of twenty to life for his second murder conviction. First vic was a gangbanger, Second was his girlfriend, and her fifteen month-old son. According to the file we were given, the gangbanger insulted him, and his girlfriend's son wouldn't stop crying."

"Sounds like a classic sociopath, world revolves around him and nobody else matters, so he has no problem killing. Probably abused as a kid, did he get into trouble in prison a lot?" Emily diverted her attention away from where they were, to the problem at hand, hoping she could forget where they were.

"Yeah, says he had more than his share of spats with the guards, was particularly abusive to any that tried to tell him what to do."

"I figured, the abuse was probably by his father, so he won't take well to male authority figures. He feels threatened by men, and women and children are worthless to him, so he won't hesitate to kill the hostages. We need to keep him thinking he's in control, or he'll kill one to prove he is." She turned back to look at Matt, who was nodding in agreement.

"You should take primary on this one, you're a woman, he'll automatically assume he has control." _And, this is clearly distracting you_, he thought to himself.

She looked worried at first, but then nodded, he was right, Peterson might snap quicker with a male negotiator.

"Here we are, this is where you can set up, though most equipment won't work down here. Here's the talkie, good luck." Duff backed away, still not sure if the nervous female negotiator was up to the task.

"Detroit Peterson, this is Emily Lehman, I am with the FBI, please respond if you can here me." She clicked the button, and made their first contact, while Matt began taking notes in the lights pouring from the flood bulbs HRT had rigged. It didn't make the chamber look any less threatening.

"Yeah, what do you want?" A terse, scratchy voice came over the talkie.

"Detroit, could you tell me how the hostages are doing in there?"

"Just fuckin' dandy, except for the all the damn cryin' I'ma thinkin' I'm gonna do somethin' about that."

"Let's just slow down a little, and why don't you tell me what you are looking for out of this situation."

"Oh I don't know, how's about a way out of this fucking tomb?"

"Okay, we can work on that. Are you hungry, thirsty, do you need anything else?"

"I could kill for a whopper and a shake," he said laughing at the irony of his comment.

"Okay, that's a great start, we'll get you all some lunch. Anything else?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it. How about you quit talking and use that mouth for something practical, like suckin' my cock?" He laughed again, enjoying the chance to demean her.

"Oh, I would Detroit, but then who would make sure you got your whopper?" she bantered back, receiving raised eyebrows from Matt and the HRT agents, who exchanged looks.

They could hear his amused howl echo off the walls. Emily let the hand with the talkie fall to her side. "Can somebody make a McDonald's run?"

"Burger King," the half dozen guys in the room corrected her all at once.

"Wherever, just get the man a Whopper and a shake, a meal for the mother, and a couple of the kids meals with toys. How young is that baby?"

"Still on a milk diet."

"Excellent, then the kids meals, something for the mother, and get him two whoppers, give him a nice surprise," she instructed, stretching as a young agent went off to get the food. She caught Matt looking at her mildly amused. "What?"

"You would, but who would get his whopper?" Matt was learning that Emily Lehman wasn't the good girl she seemed to be; even with the smoking she had still seemed to be one of those nice girls, the kind moms love. Now, he wasn't so sure.

She shrugged. "I have to get a little respect out of him."

He shook his head, still entertained, and then gave a little laugh at another thought.

She turned back to him, exasperated. "What now?"

"You aren't twitchy anymore."

"Oh…so?" That was definitely good, but she didn't know why it should be amusing.

"You are a surprising woman Lehman, cigarettes and psychos relax you. I should record this creep and stick him on a Ipod for the next time you have to go down to the basement."

She smirked, "not a bad idea."

Twenty minutes later, the mildew and musk scent was overtaken by grease and salt; the food had arrived, and the show was back on.

"Hey Detroit, I've got your lunch, and I can tell you're a smart man, so you can guess how this has to go." Tweak his ego, and he's more likely to keep negotiations open, he'll like you, and want to talk.

"Got that right honey, I 'ppose you want one'a these brats?" He responded quickly to the transmission.

"Yeah, you give me a kid, and I'll give you your whopper." She nibbled her lip, wondering if maybe she was trying to bargain a little early, or was it right on time?

"I'll give you this screamin' little wiggle worm. The boy will bring it out, and you give him the burger. Anybody tries anything, and I'll put a bullet in the little girl, then give the mother the ride of her life." His voice had gone from playful to cold in a matter of seconds.

"It's a deal Detroit, and don't worry, I promise nobody is going to try anything." She nodded to Duff and he relayed the message to one of the agents waiting in the closer chamber.

The minutes ticked by as they waited in silence, praying that nothing would go wrong. It was so simple, what could possibly go wrong? Then they heard a baby cry, and it got louder and louder, until an HRT agent came in with the unhappy child in his arms. His first instinct was to pass the child to Emily, the only woman in the room, but then he saw the talkie in her hand, and instead detoured to Matt. He hefted the child in his arms, bouncing him on his hip to try and sooth him, though it wasn't working.

"Uh, can we get someone to ride up with him to the paramedics to get examined? And, where the father, has he gotten here yet?" He looked uneasily at the baby, children were never his strong suit, especially ones that spit up and cried. Emily was looking at the baby with similar level of discomfort, contrary to her gender, she wasn't entrenched in maternal instinct.

"Benton, take the kid up," Duff instructed the unlucky man, who reluctantly took the screaming boy from Matt, and headed out of the chamber the way they came in.

"We got the baby, thank you Detroit."

"My word's good as gold, sugar. Now let me eat my whoppers in peace."

Emily grinned, and once again allowed the hand that held the radio to drop to her side. So far, so good.


	4. Chapter 4

_Warning: Again, this chapter gets a little vulgar._

* * *

"I told you what I want, babe. Come in here and sit on my dick for a while, keep me happy like they teach you to," the convict HT taunted joyfully.

"And, what would that solve Detroit?" Emily asked in a playful voice. She was growing tired of this shit though.

"Wouldn't solve nothin', but it'd sure make me feel better, ya know, about this whole bargaining process."

"Why don't you do that for yourself, use the hand that isn't holding the gun. I can wait ten minutes." She didn't turn to see the wide-eyes her comment generated, and barely controlled laughter.

"You a riot honey. Come on now, I'll even give ya another kid. Would you do that? Your pussy for this little boy?"

"Sure, small price to pay for the life of a child, but the rule book says no." She heard Matt gagging on the gulp of water he just took, but didn't turn to explain her comment. She had to get in the gutter with the creep, once he realized it didn't phase her, he'd get serious.

They could hear his roaring laughter echoing again through the cavern. "Now, does it specifically mention not exchanging your cunt for hostages, or are you ad-libbin'?"

"It's pretty specific about that, Detroit. Bureau just doesn't trust us girls to keep it zipped up," she lied.

"Why don't I believe you? Have you read this whole book?"

"No, but I did write it." That wasn't a lie; she finished her training manual last year. She'd never actually sat down to read it, but she didn't have to since she had it memorized.

He howled with laughter again, clearly enjoying their conversation. "I like you, Honey."

"Glad we're enjoying each other Detroit, but we need to talk seriously about getting those people out of there safely, and getting you what you want." She hoped he hadn't realized the truth yet, there was no way he was getting out of here a free man.

"What I want….what I want…you and I both know I can't get what I really want. So, how do you propose to get these people out with nothing to bargain for?" Shit, he had realized.

Emily turned to Matt, hoping he had a suggestion, he held up a white board for her reading, 'shorter sentence.'

"Detroit, you kill that woman and her children, and you'll be in prison your whole life, you let them go, you have a chance of getting out."

"How do you figure? I've got the rest of my sentence, 15 years minimum, plus whatever charges get laid on me for this, which I expect will rack up a few more decades. I might get out, but will be too old to jerk off," he snarled at her, finally getting serious.

"I can arrange with the US attorney to have your sentences follow concurrently, and you won't get more than fifteen years for any of the charges, so that means you serve fifteen years. Imagine that Detroit, you can be out of prison in the fifteen years originally had, consider this a freebie." The US attorney would throw a fit if he heard her suggestion, but he doesn't have to know about it yet.

But Detroit went silent for several minutes, causing Emily to start to really worry.

"Alright sugar, you draw up those papers, and send them in, and I'll sign them and send them out with the boy. You can have him, if you give me those papers."

"What about the mother and little girl?"

"I don't want to get shot walking out of here, so we'll work on them in a little later."

"I'm going to need more for this deal Detroit."

"Fine, you can have the girl too, but I keep the woman to get me out of here alive."

"Deal." Emily clicked off the radio, and turned to Matt.

"You realize the US Attorney isn't going to agree to that right?" Duff informed them, looking dubiously at them.

"Sure he will, she left him with no choice. He doesn't, Detroit will kill those kids, and the world will learn he had a chance to save them, but didn't." Matt knew exactly what his temporary partner was thinking; it was a little eerie.

"Right, US Attorney is actually at the local police station, you want to call and explain what you need?" Duff nodded, and asked.

"Matt can do it, I want to be down here incase he tries to communicate again," Emily explained, inhaling sharply.

* * *

"Okay Detroit, I have the papers for you to sign, very clearly marked. You ready for them?" Emily asked him, and hour, and one very unhappy US Attorney later. When Matt had explained the request, the lawyer had actually commented that he wanted to filet her.

"Yep, send 'em in, I'll have the boy come and get 'em."

"On their way, Detroit." Emily nodded to Duff, who nodded to one of his guys holding a few sheets of legalese. The HRT agent ran through the corridor with the papers, and came back twenty minutes later, two little kids in toe, and the signed documents.

"Okay, Detroit, we got the children, thank you very much. How about we talk about getting that nice lady out of there now." Emily picked her radio back up and addressed him again. Matt directed two more HRT agents to take up the frightened children. That left five, including Duff.

"I let her go, you put a bullet in me, so what do papoze, Ms. Rulebook?" He drawled lazily.

"Detroit, I'm in charge here right now, these men they don't move without my say so. Nobody is going to shoot unless I tell them too." Ordinarily, being in charge would be the last thing she'd admit, but right now he needed to feel like she would protect him.

He was silent for several minutes.

"Okay, okay, I got me an idea. You get yourself in here, I let this lady go, and you walk outta here with me. They ain't gonna shoot if I got you as a human shield."

"Detroit, if you just drop your weapon and let her go, nobody is going to shoot you. They'll have no reason!" She told him, exasperated.

"Cops always find a reason, I don't trust them, and I don't trust you." He spit angrily.

Emily turned to Matt, who was shaking his head rapidly.

"Lehman, you're crazy if you're thinking of going along with that." He marveled at her, calm as hell now, when an armed psycho was asking for her company.

"What other choice do we have?" She challenged. Matt shrugged, but kept shaking his head. Emily picked the talkie up.

"It's a deal Detroit, I'm on my way." She clicked off the talkie, and handed it to Matt, looking less than thrilled with her decision.

"Wish me luck," she told Matt, unholstering her weapon, and sticking it down her boot. Detroit wasn't too bright, she didn't see him frisking her beyond her hips.

Matt didn't say anything as he watched her walk out, but stopped her as she got to the door.

"Lehman," he called quietly.

"Yeah?" She turned, he didn't look as upset as he had.

"Break a leg." His face turned into a grin. She smiled back.

Emily walked through the halls, passed the two HRT agents positioned in the first chamber, through the second hallway, to the doorway of the second chamber, where a frightened woman was standing.

"It's okay, I'm FBI. You can go now, go on," Emily instructed her. She turned to look behind her.

"She's right, get outta here, I've got what I want." Detroit appeared behind her, as big and muscled as his mugshots suggested. He carried a very large automatic weapon, and leered at Emily as the woman ran off terrified.

"Well Emily, you are much more fuck-worthy that I figured." He grinned, but it quickly turned to a scowl as he caught sight of an HRT agent by the outer doorway.

"Son of a bitch." He pointed his weapon past her and starting firing, the HRT fired back, hitting him once before Detroit grabbed Emily, who was attempting to dive out of the way, and dragged her back into his hole. He loosely pointed his weapon at her with one hand, while examined the wound to his hip with the other. His face was contorted in pain. Emily took the opportunity to reach for her gun, and point it at him.

"Drop it Detroit, now." His head flew up, surprise then fury gracing his face.

"You little ho!" He moved his gun so slightly, angling it better toward her, and Emily fired three rounds into him. He fell down on the ground, but not before his finger settled on the trigger and he sent a few dozen rounds toward the ceiling. Chips rained down on them, and the whole structure gave a series of loud groans, the talkie was going off crazily with Matt's worried voice.

"Matt, get everybody out of here now! Start sending HRT out, I think this thing is going to come down!" Emily hollered into the talkie, which went silent for a few second before he came back.

"Emily, are you alright?!"

"Yeah, fine. Detroit's dead, I'm on my way back, now!" She made it to the doorway before larger pieces of stone began crumbling down, and ran through the hallway. The HRT agents were already gone; good, Duff had already sent called them back. She heard steps coming toward her, and Matt calling her name. Pieces of rock began breaking off the rest of the structure, it's fragile stability blown to hell by the gunshots.

"I'm here! Is everybody out!" She called back at him.

"Except you, me, Duff and one of his guys, they are waiting on us!" He said as she made it back to them. They had to shout because it was getting so loud. They clamored onto the lift with Duff and his subordinate as more and more rock began raining down. Duff smacked the button hard, squeezing it tight, pushing the rickety thing to move faster.

Matt found Emily's hand again as she resumed her state of panic, and squeezed it to calm her down. Stone dust and chips scraped their skin and made them cough. They all heard the noises at the same time, and looked up to see fist sized stones hurtling down the elevator shaft. All four hit the floor at once, couching together. A dozen stones hit the lift, but only about half of those hit the passengers, who responded with pained yelps and groans.

Matt covered Emily's body with his own, an instinct as a man, and something he'd done more than once to Cheryl when bullets came flying their way. She'd yelled at him for it, but Matt couldn't help it; it wasn't a conscious choice. Emily didn't move, didn't object, she was too busy trying not to panic. He could feel her heaving beneath him, and was afraid she might hyperventilate before they reached the surface.

The stones stopped raining on them, and they finally made it to the top of the lift, where a couple of HRT agents waited to yank them off. Matt kept close to his partner who was still barely breathing, as he dragged her up the stairs and out into the sun. The two negotiators and four HRT agents fell to the ground, hearts racing, unable to stand another minute. Emily finally got her breathing under control, just long enough to walk off a distance and vomit.

"Jesus, fuck are you two alright?" Lea had gotten choppered to the scene as soon as he finished with Temple and Binder. Cheryl and Frank came with him, worried as they were, and hoping to help.

"Yeah, we're good." Matt was still out of breath, and spoke between pants. Emily didn't comment, her eyes were wide, and her hands shaking. They trembled as she pulled out her pack of cigarettes, and lighter. She stuck the white stick in her mouth, and set the flame to the end of it, inhaling the wonderful taste into her lungs. She was immediately soothed, and largely ignored her coworkers until she finished the cigarette. Then she lit another, and finally had her head on enough to talk.

"HT's dead." That wasn't intentionally her first words, but that's what came out. Her coworkers looked surprised.

"You know those things will kill you right?" Frank asked, eyeing her obvious dependency.

"I was working on quitting. Today set me back a little." She didn't care about judgments, her little cancer stick was making her the happiest person in the world right then.

"Obviously." Lea hated smoking, and wasn't even aware Lehman smoked until then, she hid it well.

"That HRT guy here, he's really good. Best, I've worked with, baring you, Frank." Emily pointed over toward where Commander Gonzalez was checking on his troops.

"She's right, he was good." Matt agreed.

"I know, I was talking to his superior as they came out. He's actually the second in command, one notch below Frank's position. What do you think Frank, you do need a competent second in command?" Lea and Frank had been searching for one for a while; his guys were all young, or not leaders.

"Let me talk to him, he looks a little young." They all rolled their eyes, Frank didn't trust the young ones, not since Edgar. Edgar was as innocent as he sounded, but had a good ten years of experience on him when he got trigger-happy on an HT. Missed the HT too, caused a few hostages deaths, and pissed off Frank horribly. Frank went off to talk to the young HRT assistant commander.

"So, you two are really okay? You looked a little green coming out of that cave." Lea eyed them skeptically.

Matt looked at Emily, both shrugging; it was over, that was all that mattered. Emily finished her second cigarette and tucked the pack and light away. She was much calmer now. Jill would verbally rip her a new one for the slip, but they'd just almost been crushed to death, 1200 feet below surface. That warranted a little slip up.

"Uh, boss those transcripts are going a little surprising, when you read them. Just remember that it worked." Matt was already defending his temporary partner, who looked at him in confusion. Emily realized what he was talking about, and her eyes widened…crap.

"Damn it Flannery, what did you do now, without Cheryl to save your ass?" Lea looked unimpressed. Matt didn't a chance to respond, Emily jumped in. She wasn't going to let him get yelled at for something she did, not when he'd been so understanding with her.

"Sir, it was what I did actually. The HT, uh, well I had to jump in the gutter with him to get him to take me seriously," she struggled to explain.

"Meaning?"

Emily bit her lip, trying to think of a way to word it. Oh hell, she thought, before blurting out, "we swapped sexual innuendo."

"You what?" Lea rubbed fingers on his brow like he might be getting a migraine.

"Sir, you have to understand, he was trying to unnerve me with comments about uh…performing fallacio, and uh, trading my…uh my body for hostages, so I bantered back with him." Emily was pretty sure she'd never been so uncomfortable in her life.

"Uh, in her defense sir, it worked, the HT took her serious, in fact her actually liked her, thought she was funny." Matt had watched Emily squirm, and felt the need to at least try to help her out.

"You know, I don't even know what to say to this. You actually had a conversation about performing sexual favors for this lunatic, and didn't get skeeved out enough to turn it over to Matt?" Lea's expression was unreadable, and Emily wondered momentarily if she'd be benched for a while.

"Giving it to Agent Flannery wouldn't have solved anything sir. I'm sure he would have found something to make him just as uncomfortable." They all watched Lea, as he seemed to think, serious expression over his face. Suddenly an amused grin broke out on his face.

"Phoenix was right, Lehman."

"Sir?" Oh god, what did Phoenix tell him?

"You're damn good." He went off toward Frank, who was waving him over, actually laughing. Emily's body sagged with relief.

"I'm going to need this story, it sounds to good to pass up." Cheryl was eyeing them with amusement.

"Fine, you buy the first round at Sloan's," Emily agreed. If she had to be humiliated in front of her coworkers, she was going to be at least half-way to intoxicated doing it.

"Oh, done deal. I think we might be celebrating a new member to the team, anyway." Cheryl gestured over toward where Lea was shaking hands with Commander Gonzalez, both grinning widely, Frank beside them, looking very pleased. They headed over toward the three negotiators.

"Agent Gonzalez, you are familiar with Agents Flannery and Lehman, and this is Agent Cheryl Carerra, Matt's partner." Lea introduced the two.

"Please to me you ma'am." Duff was exceedingly polite with her.

"Oh, imagine that, and HRT agent who is a pig," Cheryl commented, teasing Frank.

"Just being polite until I get to know you better ma'am," Duff smiled, sending them all into laughter.

"He's honest, I like honest," Frank commented.

"So, not to young for you, Frank?" Matt asked, wondering what got the HRT commander to change his mind.

"I can overlook that he looks twelve. He's already proved he was honest, and loyal I might add." He bowed toward the young agent, who scowled at the reference to looking twelve.

"Oh yeah, how are you loyal, Gonzalez?" Matt wondered, already looking amused.

"Kid wouldn't give up what sexual innuendo Lehman swapped with the HT. OPC might not like that, but when we're in the field, shit happens, and I expect my guys to keep it to themselves." Frank nodded proudly. No big mouths on his team. People attacked any perceived wrongdoing by law enforcement too readily these days; he wanted people he could trust on his team.

The negotiators nodded in agreement, they had moments where they did some pretty drastic things to salvage a negotiation. In their business decisions were made quick, and they weren't always the best, but you couldn't second guess yourself. And, they needed people they could trust not to share that with the world, backing them up.

"So, when are you officially transferring to LA?" Cheryl asked, ready to welcome him aboard, even if he did look like a baby.

"Hopefully, by next week. My boss isn't too happy, it's going to be a little awkward until then." Duff shrugged, nothing he could do about it.

His soon to be colleagues chuckled at his nonchalance. Yep, he would be a nice addition to LA's team.

* * *

_Do to a wedding, US election mania, a self-imposed deadline to finish my novel, and assorted other chaos, updates will be on hold for a couple weeks. Sorry, but it has to be done._

_Thank you all for reading, and reviewing; it's always much appreciated!_


	5. Chapter 5

After the negotiation in the mine, Matt and Emily were even friendlier. He was still impressed that, scared as she'd been, she could still negotiate. She was still very grateful he'd not only, tried to comfort her down there, but once again, kept mum about how frightened she'd been. Contrary to his bad-boy attitude, she was finding that Matt Flannery was actually a really nice guy. Of course, they didn't see each other too much; he and Cheryl were always the first ones sent out, since they were the best. And, Emily had her classes, and went on her share of solo assignments because her partner was pretty much useless.

Tonight was Christmas Eve, and everyone had run out of the office at the stroke of four, since the Bureau released them early. Cheryl and Sam planned on spending the night quietly together at his apartment, before family gatherings tomorrow. Lea, Temple and Binder all wanted to get home to their kids, Frank had to catch a flight to Sacramento to spend Christmas with his siblings, at his sister's house, and Duff was flying to Oregon for his parent's house.

Matt and Emily were the only ones not rushing to get out, because they were the only ones that barely spoke to their families. Matt's parents were dead, and he hadn't spoken to his brother since a horrible fight they had three years earlier. Emily's sister was incarcerated, they hated each other anyway, and calling her relationship with her parents strained, just didn't cover it. As for significant others, Matt's last girlfriend moved to New York two months ago, and Emily engaged in a screaming match with her boyfriend a week ago.

"Lehman, why aren't you rushing to get home? Isn't Kevin going to miss you?" Matt asked, teasingly.

"Maybe, but we officially broke it off a few days ago." Emily didn't even look up from the papers she was studying.

"Really? I'm sorry…if you have no plans tonight, you want to join me at Sloan's for some good cheer?" He didn't really want to spend the night alone. He always visited his father on Christmas Eve, and since he died a month ago, this would be his first Christmas Eve not spent at his childhood home.

"Why aren't you rushing home?" Emily finally looked up at him, studying him.

"Uh, I usually spend Christmas Eve with my dad, and he died last month." He looked away from her eyes, not wanting her to see the pain still present in his.

"Oh Matt, I'm so sorry." Her eyes softened with sympathy.

"Thanks…so, Sloan's?" He asked, trying to avoid talking about his father.

"Sure. I just have to get some of this paperwork done," she said, gesturing to the stack in front of herself.

"Why? Lea's not here, and it's Christmas Eve. Forget the paperwork, and let's find some eggnog," Matt teased.

Emily grinned at him for a moment before relenting. "Okay, you're right. I don't want to do paperwork tonight."

"Good," Matt said, watching her close the folder in front of her and toss it on a stack.

He watched her stand up, and stretch her arms high into the air, her camisole riding up just the tiniest bit. Matt's eyebrows rose with it, but then shook himself out of it. Bad, bad, bad, he said to himself, so not appropriate way to view a friend. If it had been Cheryl, he would have controlled his eyes better. Emily deserved the same respect.

"You ready?" Emily looked at him curiously.

He'd been the one so eager to go, but he didn't look ready to leave at all.

"Yep," Matt said shaking himself, "let's go."

--

An hour later, they were sitting inside Sloan's sipping beers, talking and laughing. Matt was happily relating the first negotiation he and Cheryl ever worked together. Six hours in, Lea was ready to kill them both to get them to stop arguing, but the HT was calming down a little.

"So Cheryl gets back on the phone with the HT, and she's pissed. I'm pissed, and Lea wants to kill us. The HT can tell she's angry, and he asks if everything is alright. Cheryl grumbles that her new partner is pissing her off. The HT, calm as can be, asks if she wants to talk about it. Cheryl turns to Lea and me with this look of disbelief on her face, and after a minute I start laughing, she glares at me, and turns back the phone. She starts telling the HT that yeah, she's upset, misses her old partner, and would he mind talking to her? He says sure, no problem. Cheryl says thanks, but she doesn't really want to talk over the line, other people can hear, would he mind coming out to talk to her? So, this idiot says sure, sure, tells the hostages to stay put, and walks right out the door. Cheryl goes over to the building, and just starts going off about her partner problems. Meanwhile, Frank and HRT went in the back way, and smuggled all the hostages out," Matt finished laughing at the memory.

"I can't believe that idiot fell for that," she said, giggling next to him at the bar.

"Oh completely. In fact, he wanted to give Cheryl a hug, you can imagine how appealing she found that," he said.

Emily laughed. "So how is it that you two are still working together?"

"We went drinking that night, got completely wasted, had a great time, even to this day, neither of us remember much. Came in the next day, Lea said he was reassigning us, and we imediately object, insist we want to be partners. He was confused as hell, just sort of shook his head and waved us out of his office," Matt explained.

"Poor Lea, do you two still drive him crazy?" Emily asked.

"A little bit. He's used to it now though," Matt grinned, almost proudly.

Emily shook her head at him, but still laughed.

"What about you, you must miss your last partner; I can't imagine Wyatt is much fun," Matt asked.

"Yeah, Jill, we became good friends. When you're doing profiling, you have to lean on each other, no one else can ever understand what it's like. And then, we were the only two women in the unit, so there was that too. It was different for us to read about what happened to those victims, to see the photos. We'd call each other in the middle of the night after these awful nightmares prominently featuring the victims of whatever case we happened to be working on, and just talk it out. But we had fun too, going to bars and clubs, giggling over the few dates we managed to score. We still talk often," Emily said, playing with her red disposable lighter.

"You guys had trouble getting dates?" Matt asked curiously.

"It wasn't so much getting dates that was a problem, it was getting a second date. It always goes great until they ask what we do. Most are okay with the FBI part, but you tell them you spend all day studying the most gruesome murders this world has to offer, then they start keeping their distance," she explained.

"That's not really fair," he frowned.

"Would you date a women that did that?" She asked, still twirling the lighter in her fingers.

"I was a homicide cop for a few years, it's not weird to me, so yeah, I would."

"You're one of few then."

"You ever think you'll go back to profiling?" He asked.

"Not if I can help it."

"What about Jill, is she still profiling?"

"No, they have profilers rotate every two years, a person can only take so much of that. She's negotiating in Phoenix though," Emily said, now figeting with her box of cigarettes too.

"So what happened with Kevin?" Matt suddenly wondered.

"He's a dick. Listen, I need a cigarette, I'm going to run outside," she said, hopping off the bar stool.

"Seriously? It's forty degrees out there?" Matt insisted.

"That's warm compared to Albany, besides, I'm used to freezing for a smoke," she grinned and headed out of the bar.

Matt followed behind her, still shaking his head. He was the guy, he felt like he should follow her out, even if he couldn't keep her warm. Now there was an idea...no, bad, stop.

They got outside, and as soon as they were a few feet away from the door, Emily lit up and inhaled happily. She was perfectly comfortable in her winter coat; New York and New Jersey both got below freezing in the winter. Forty degrees was warm.

She turned to look at her companion, who was hopping around on his feet and rubbing his hands together. Matt looked like he was trying to fight turning into an ice pop.

"You don't have to stand out here with me, you know?" She offered, eyebrows raised.

"No, it's okay, I'm fine," Matt insisted, even though he could feel the cold down to his bones. At the same time he was wondering, was it considered chivalrous to freeze your ass off, or just stupid?

"Suit yourself," she said, shrugging.

"Your boyfriends aren't bothered by the cigarette taste when they kiss you?" Matt suddenly asked, almost imediately smacking himself. That could definately be consider rude, or maybe offensive.

Emily raised her eyebrows again and smiled at him, pulling out a pack of gum to show him. "Every smoker I know keeps gum or mints on them. Now, every time I smell mint, I want a cigarette."

Matt was still nodding thoughtfully, when a phone suddenly went off. They both went fishing in their pockets, Emily with her half-finished cigarette hanging in one hand. She came up the winner.

"Lehman," she answered without checking the caller ID.

"Em, it Jill," her friend's tearful phone came back at her like a slap.

"Jill, what's wrong?" Emily asked worriedly, taking a drag.

"Can you pick me up at the airport?"

"Airport? Wait, LAX?" Emily asked, shocked. Jill flew to LA?

"No, the other airport in the middle of LA," Jill answered, sarcastic but still tearfilled.

"What gate are you at?"

"Number seven," she snifled.

"Alright, I'm on my way," Emily answered quickly, and hung up.

"Is everything alright," Matt asked, concerned.

"No, I don't think so. That was Jill, she's at LAX, I have to go get her," Emily said, taking a last drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out.

"Let's go," he said, turning toward the cars.

"What?" Emily asked puzzled.

"You car is at work, in the opposite direction. It's Christmas Eve, with traffic it's going to take you an extra hour to get your car. I'll drive you, and drop you both back at work," he explained.

"I can't ask you to do that," she responded.

"You didn't ask, I offered, and I have no plans, remember?" Matt said with a self-depricating smile.

"Thank you," Emily finally nodded, following him to his car.

--

Normally, it would have taken thirty minutes to get to the airport, but Christmas Eve? It took over twice that, and the negotiators grew very tired of trying to get through traffic. They finally made it to the airport, then had to find the right terminal, and finally had to find gate seven on the terminal.

Emily rushed in through the automatic doors, which welcomed her and then complimented her shoes. She didn't have time to wonder what the hell that was about, Jill found her first. She grabbed her carry-on suit case, and made met Emily just beyond the doors. Tears still drying on her face, she embraced her best friend, and fresh tears burst from her abused ducts.

Emily stood there, holding her best friend while she cried into her shoulder. She couldn't begin to imagine what happened to send Jill fleeing to LA. They'd been through several rough situations together, but Jill hadn't been quite the wreck she seemed now.

"Jesus Jill, what happened," Emily asked, finally managing to pull her away long enough to see her face.

"You want the long version or the short version?" She asked hostilly.

"Short version, Matt's waiting for us outside."

"Matt? The fox at the office?" Jill asked, glad for a distraction.

"I call him Matt, but yeah," Emily smirked.

"Are you...were you two...?" Jill let it hang.

"No, we weren't. Neither of us had Christmas plans, and I still haven't changed my mind about sleeping with coworkers, Jill. Bad idea, and don't change the subject," Emily insisted.

"Fine, I'm pregnant," she answered.

"Oh shit," Emily blurted out.

"You always did know just what to say, Emily," Jill smirked.

"I'm sorry, I was just suprised," Emily said.

"No, it's alright. I'm glad you had the same reaction I did," she said. Emily squeezed her friend's hand, and led her out to the car.

"Matt Flannery, Jill Thompson," Emily introduced the tall blonde that climbed into Matt's backseat.

"Nice to meet you," He said politely, extending his hand back.

"Likewise, and thanks for coming to my rescue," she shook his hand.

"Always wanted to be a knight riding to the rescue in an ten year-old white Neon," he joked. The Bureau had issued the Neon, which wasn't a bad car, but really not a chick-magnet. Soon as Matt got his credit cards paid off, he was getting himself one of those beautiful new Mustangs. They'd gone back to the original body type, and Matt wanted one badly.

"Very chivalrous of you," she said, smiling.

"I try," Matt said.

"Then why haven't you bedded Emily yet?" Jill asked, completely serious.

Matt's eyes widened, and he was so stunned he didn't realize he was driving away from the curve of the road, and to yank them back on.

"Jill!" Emily hissed loudly.

"I wouldn't, I don't think of, why, why would I do that," Matt stuttered, still caught completely off guard.

"Don't worry Matt, Jill is just being Jill," Emily said through gritted teeth, looking at her friend.

"Well, why not? You're both single and pretty," Jill suggested.

"How do you know I'm--wait, did you just call me pretty?" Matt asked, glancing in the rearview to see her, a little horrifed at her chosen terminology.

"I did, I think you're very pretty," Jill grinned.

"Oh. I...oh," Matt didn't know what to say, just swallowed and looked forward. He saw Emily glance at him out of the corner of his eye, then she turned to the window. It was silent for a few seconds, until he heard stiftled giggling. He looked over at her.

"What are you laughing at, Lehman?"

"You're blushing," she said simply, still giggling.

Matt didn't question it, he could feel the heat in his cheeks.

"One woman calls you pretty, and you blush and get all nervous. What would Frank say?" She asked, giggling harder.

"That's evil, don't you dare mention this to anyone at work," he warned.

"Scouts honor," Emily managed before breaking into giggles again.

Jill watched the exchange with amusement, suprised that she could even smile under her current circumstances. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't interrupted, if the two would have woken up to Christmas morning together. That would have been quite the present from Santa, but no, Emily always very clear, very firm that she would never get involved with a coworker.

Too bad, they were kind of cute together.

* * *

_Sorry for the long hiattus, but the wedding is over, my first draft of my book is written, and my head is screwed on a little better. I'll try to get a chaper of Earning up this weekend, but it's going to be hinky through all of October. Sorry again, I know how hard it is to get back into stories after long delays. Thank you all very much for still reading, and I'm always very grateful for reviews. _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This chapter involves a highly controversial topic. If abortion bothers you, I suggest the back button._

* * *

"So you never said what happened with Kevin," Matt asked, as they sat stuck in traffic, the space spot they'd been in for 45 minutes.

"What always happens," Emily grumbled from the passenger seat, looking out the window.

"Which is?" He asked, turning to her.

"Why do you want to know so much?" She turned to him.

"Because, you seem more angry than upset about it," Matt answered with a shrug.

"He couldn't handle the job," Jill called from the backseat, supplying the answer Emily was reluctant to give.

"What do you mean, he was uncomfortable that you are a Bureau agent?" Matt asked.

"Basically. He doesn't like the gun, doesn't like the situations I'm in, and doesn't like me oncall," Emily relented and explained.

"Is he maybe just being protective?" Matt asked encouragingly.

"I'd say that if he didn't whine when I got called in. Anyway, it doesn't really matter, I don't want to be or need to be protected," she answered turning to the window again.

"What did he do again?" Matt asked unable to remember her now ex's job.

"He was a proctologist."

"An ass doctor!" Matt exclaimed, causing Jill to giggle and Emily to turn to him, eyebrows raised.

"Yes."

"Wait, wait, wait, a guy that went to school for eight years to study butts was uncomfortable with your job?" He asked incredulously.

"I'm a girl, I'm not supposed to be in dangerous situations," Emily deadpanned.

"Okay, I say a woman cop is way, way more normal than a guy that stares at butts all day," Matt said shaking his head, eyes a little wide.

"Pretty and enlightened, it's shame you aren't taking advantage Emily," Jill commented, smiling.

"Jill..." Emily warned.

Matt stared straight ahead, swallowing with a little difficulty, and trying to ignore that Emily's friend not only called him pretty again, but suggested Emily sleep with him...again.

They went quiet for a short while, waiting for traffic to clear. When it finally did ten minutes later, Matt tried to get through it quick, but that was pretty hopeless. It was moving; that was the best they could hope for. That was when he noticed Emily start to fidget in her seat, looking terribly uncomfortable. He let it go, and concentrated and going with traffic as it moved. After twenty minutes though, Emily was biting her lip and fidgeting ever worse.

"Are you alright?" Matt asked turning to her.

"Yep, fine," she said quickly, latching back onto her lip.

Again Matt let it go, but ten minutes later she was still twisting around in her seat, tapping her hand, and gnawing on her bottom lip.

"Lehman, for christsake, what's wrong?" Matt asked exasperated, looking over at her.

Emily head whipped around from the window toward him, eyes wide with surprise. "I uh, I have to use the bathroom," she finally said.

"Now?" Matt groaned.

"You asked, besides, I'm holding it just fine," Emily insisted.

"Yeah, the contortionist routine supports that statement," Matt commented, rolling his eyes.

He searched through the windshield, looking for some place that might have a bathroom. It was after two in the morning, where could one find a bathroom at two in the morning? Then he saw it, a place that would undoubtedly be open, even this late. Matt flicked his blinker, and pissed off a few drivers as he nosed over toward the tasteful-looking establishment.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked, noticing what building he was parking in front of.

"They'll have a bathroom and are still open," he said.

"Dreamland Gentlemen's Club? It's a strip joint, Matt."

"I know that. Just go in there, before you burst," he insisted.

"Who says they'll even let me in?"

"They'll let you in, trust me," he said.

"Fine, I'll be right back," Emily sighed, hopping out of the car into the December chill.

"You think she's hot," Jill stated from the backseat, startling Matt.

"What?"

"Emily, you think she's hot," Jill repeated herself.

"Has anybody ever told you that you have no boundaries?" Matt asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"Yep, a few times. I notice that you didn't deny it," she said.

"What would be the point, you wouldn't believe me?"

"Smart too...but I think I've changed my mind about you," Jill said thoughtfully.

"Oh, how's that? Do you suddenly think I shouldn't be trying to screw your friend?" Matt asked impatiently.

"No. You're not the casual sex type."

"I'm a guy, I've had lots of casual sex."

"That's not what I'm saying. There are men that you sleep with and that's it, and there are men that deserve to be more than that. You fall in the latter," Jill explained, still watching him thoughtfully.

"So then I'm not pretty?" Matt asked hopefully.

"Oh no, you're still...would you prefer beautiful?" Jill asked, teasing grin on her face.

"Never mind..." Matt sighed, turning to stare out the windshield. He was startled when Jill suddenly opened one of the rear doors, and began to climb out.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Now I need to use the bathroom, I'll be back in a second," she said, hopping out and running into the strip joint.

Matt shook his head, contemplating the psychic link women seem to have with their friend's bladders. Without a doubt, whenever one had to go to the bathroom, she got company. It was a phenomena that puzzled every man he knew. Even Cheryl did that with her friends, and she was the least girly woman he knew.

"Hey, where's Jill?" Emily asked, sweeping back into the passenger's seat.

"She ran in to use the bathroom," he said.

"Oh...I'm sorry this is turning into such a hassle, Matt," she said softly.

"What? Oh no, it's not a big deal, really. It's kind of a relief that I don't have to figure out what to do with myself tonight or rather today. Besides, Jill is something else, I have to tell you," Matt told her.

"Oh god, what did she say now?" Emily groaned.

"Apparently, I've been promoted from casual lay to dating material," he said chuckling.

"Oh that's not so bad, she obviously thinks highly of you," she grinned and shrugged.

"She has no boundaries."

"Yeah, usually she has a little bit more than tonight. I think it's just because she's hormonal and freaked," Emily explained.

"Oh? She pregnant or something?" Matt asked offhandedly.

"No comment," she answered.

"Dropping that subject..." Matt trailed off, leaving them in silence. That was, until a sudden thought popped into his head. "If you could ask Santa for one thing what would it be?"

Emily went silent, staring at him. "You realize Santa isn't real, right?"

"Yes, I know he's a kid's story. Fine, Christmas wish, what is it?" He rephrased.

"Uh...um...oh god, I don't know," she finally said.

"You can't think of anything you want? Even something small?"

Emily tried to think again, wracking her brain. What did she want, beyond the obvious, not to be alone on Christmas, which she evidently wasn't going to be. She was about to shrug again when I thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Chocolate Chip Pancakes with real whip cream, not syrup. I haven't had them since I was a kid, my grandmother used to make them, and they were amazing. Sometimes, she'd even make an E with the batter for me," Emily smiled describing the memory.

"Pancakes?"

"Yes, pancakes."

"So...no fancy jewelry or clothes? No prince charming?" Matt asked.

"I have jewelry and clothes, and prince charming doesn't exist. I do not, however, have pancakes," she said simply.

"Hey, sorry, this drunk guy tried to follow me into the bathroom. Did you notice that the dancer on stage had little candy canes hanging off her nipples?" Jill asked climbing back into the car.

"Didn't really pay attention, too many drunk men leering," Emily said.

"Jill, you hungry?" Matt asked her.

"Actually yes, I am."

"Great, let's find a diner, Emily wants pancakes," he said.

"I think we're in the sex district. You probably don't want to order pancakes here, I'd be afraid what shape they'd come in," Jill commented, shivering.

Matt and Emily laughed, as he tried to remember the best place to find a diner. He hadn't pulled out yet, so he took the opportunity to look around the area, and reorient himself. If he remembered correctly, his detour had taken them far west, past where the Bureau building should be. That meant, they were probably just south of that little diner he'd gotten breakfast at with Cheryl once, after an excruciatingly long negotiation. The food was pretty good too. He pulled out, not quite delicately enough to not piss off the stressed-out last minute travelers and Christmas shoppers, and gunned it north.

* * *

"So what's your Christmas wish?" Emily asked Matt after they'd ordered and handed their menus back to the waitress.

"Vista Blue, 2006 Mustang GT Convertible, manual, eight cylinders," Matt rattled off quickly and proudly.

"A car, of course he wants a car," Jill mused.

"Not just a car. The Mustang is a legend, it started the muscle car craze. My dream car when I was sixteen was a '68 Shelby GT, medium blue metallic, but I got my dad's old beater instead. That Shelby is still the most beautiful car I've ever seen, but today it's impractical. The 2006 has the old body type, similar color, and it's practical," he explained.

"Can you afford one on a Bureau salary?" Emily asked.

"That's why it's a Christmas wish, and not a reality. Soon as I pay down my credit cards though," Matt said wistfully.

"When will that be?" She asked.

"Not before the 2006 is out," he answered a bit glumly.

"A year, that's not bad," Emily tried hopefully. Matt shrugged.

"What's your Christmas wish, Jill?" He asked her.

"That I could go back two years and get the IUD I never did," she muttered unhappily.

"So, then you are pregnant?" Matt asked, treading very carefully.

"Did you tell him?" Jill asked, looking at Emily.

"No, he sort of guessed...I said you were hormonal and freaked," Emily explained sheepishly.

"I won't be offended because it's true. Yes, I'm pregnant, Matt. Not for long though," she sighed unhappily.

Matt's eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. "You're getting an abortion?"

"I can't have a baby, I don't want a baby," she explained.

"You have an appointment already?" Emily asked.

"Day after Christmas...that's a little tacky isn't it? Getting an abortion the day after half the country celebrates the birth of their savior?" Jill shook her head miserably.

"I suppose as long as he isn't your savior, it doesn't matter," Emily suggested.

"Is your boyfriend going with you?" Matt asked. He couldn't speak to it being the day after Christmas, but if his girlfriend got pregnant, he'd go with her.

"No, my friend with benefits doesn't know. I made the appointment for a clinic here," she explained.

"Wait, you didn't tell him?"

"Are you serious? No, that would make it an even bigger disaster."

"But, it's his kid too. Shouldn't you make this kind of decision together?" Matt asked, growing a little upset.

"A little naive of you to think so. Look Matt, two things could happen, either he would want to keep the baby, and we'd scream at each other until I fled to LA and got an abortion without his approval, or he wouldn't, I'd get the abortion, and it would be horrendously awkward thereafter," Jill explained impatiently.

"It's a little different to look at from a woman's perspective, Matt," Emily said softly. "A baby doesn't have to change your life much, but it would ours."

"If I was going to be a father, it would damn well change my life," Matt insisted. He was a little horrified wondering if any of his girlfriends had ever gotten an abortion without telling him.

"How do you explain this sort of thing to a guy?" Jill asked Emily.

"Alright, Matt you ever screw up, and feel you'd rather deal with it yourself than involve others, and thereby make the screw up even worse?" Emily asked, sighing. This was not Christmas conversation.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Matt agreed.

"Jill screwed up, and so did Pete, but Jill is the one living with that screw-up now. She's the one that can't not live with that screw up for the moment; she doesn't have a choice here, she has to deal with it by keeping it or not. Pete's blissfully ignorant now, and will remain so. She wants to deal with it by herself, and not invite anyone else's opinion into her uterus. Now, whether it's fair to Pete or not, because she's the one that gets to deal with the consequences of that screw up, she has more rights over how to fix it. This is her choice," Emily explained carefully.

"I get that, I do, but god, I'd want to know if I got a woman pregnant," he still insisted.

"Well, I'll be sure your next girlfriend knows that," Emily said, shooting him a playful smile.

Matt shook his head and grinned. They went out for pancakes, and debated one of America's hot topics, a rather blisteringly hot topic.

The waitress finally came with their breakfast, and they quieted down as they stuffed themselves. Matt watched a smile break out across Emily's face as she took her first bite of chocolate chip pancakes with whip cream. He chuckled quietly as he dug into his omelet and hash browns, amused that something as simple as pancakes would please her so much.

They eventually made it back to FBI-LA, and Emily's car around seven in the morning. They'd hit the traffic coming back from the airport, as people were picked up by loved ones happy to see them. Matt played the gentleman, and stowed Jill's bag in Emily's car, amusing Jill. She climbed into the car, while Emily ran up to the office to grab folders from her desk. She arrived back down in the garage to find Matt talking to Jill through the car window. She dumped the folders in her backseat, and went over to her colleague and friend.

"Matt, thank you for driving tonight," she told him, standing between their cars.

"No problem, it was kind of fun...I'll see you Monday? He asked.

"Yep, have a nice weekend," she smiled.

Matt nodded, and turned toward his car, Emily heading toward hers. Then he suddenly stopped her.

"Hey Lehman!" He called softly.

"Yeah?" She asked looking at him, half inside her car.

"Merry Christmas."

She smiled. "Thanks, you too."

He grinned, hopped in his bright white Neon, and zoomed away from the FBI, wishing he was in anything hotter than a Neon. Emily shook her head and smiled as she started her car. She turned to see Jill giving her a look.

"Shut up," she told her friend.

"I didn't say anything," Jill grinned, holding up empty hands.

Emily rolled her eyes, Jill knew exactly what that look said. She put her SUV in gear, and drove slower than Matt, out of the FBI parking garage. She ignored Jill, who was still giving her a look, and looked straight ahead. Jill turned toward the window with a little giggle.

Emily sighed. It had been one hell of a night.

* * *

_So, it's no secret that I like controversial topics, but I tried not to soapbox too badly here. This story has taken kind of an odd turn, but it will go back to the whole gang and be more Standoffish (take note of the capital S) in the following chapters. Thanks for sticking with it, and thanks for the reviews!_


	7. Chapter 7

"Position checks, red team," Frank whispered into his earpiece, his assualt rifle steady at his side. "Gonzalez."

"In position," Duff whispered back through his own head piece. He was hidden away, already sighting down on his target.

"McCarthy," Frank whispered.

"In position," the agent whispered back.

"Fischer."

"In position."

"Cannon."

"In position."

"Alright boys, this mission is a go," he said smiling. Then elevator doors slid open, their cue, and they rushed out, firing mercilessly at their target.

Their target yelped, and fell quickly to the floor, protecting his head with his arms. It didn't help him that much, every time he moved, he gave them a new spot to hit. He tucked his knees to his chest, protecting his gut, and highly sensitive groin area.

Finally, the shooting stopped, and Frank stepped into the elevator, hitting the emergency stop button, so it wouldn't go anywhere. Cheryl, Temple, Binder, and Lea all ran to see what all the noise was, and stopped short at the sight in front of them.

Frank leaned close to their target, and said happily, "Happy Birthday, buddy."

"Fuck you, you crazy bastard," Matt moaned, still curled on the floor, his clothing covered in splotches of red paint.

"Jesus Frank, how many times did you guys hit him?" Cheryl demanded, crouching down beside her partner, who was struggling to get up.

"32 pellets for 32 years," Frank grinned, offering Matt a hand.

"Were trying to get him put on medical leave?" She asked, watching Matt swat away his hand, and helping him herself.

"He's fine. Pride might be a little sore, but he'll live. Besides, I already promised to buy the first round at Sloan's tonight."

"You friggin kidding? The five of you are buying me drinks all night," Matt growled, every part of his body feeling sore. He walked stiffly and painfully out of the elevator.

"Hey, be grateful man. We just saved you from taking some random chick home when you're smashed out of your skull tonight," he insisted.

"Thanks, you saved me from getting laid," Matt said, working his way over to his desk, just as the second elevator arrived and opened.

"Oh god, what happened?" Emily asked, stepping out of the elevator, and cringing at her red covered, obviously in pain coworker, stumbling to his desk.

"We gave the birthday boy 32 paintballs for 32 years," Frank explained.

Emily grimaced. "Ouch, are you okay?"

"Fine, just have to work the soreness out," Matt told her. Strangely, he did feel a little better right then.

After that Christmas Eve they spent together, he'd barely seen her. They'd both gotten so busy, in and out of the office, they seemed to be constantly missing each other. They'd run into each other at Sloan's a few times, but even there they seemed to choose opposite nights to hang out.

"I didn't know it was your birthday today, I didn't get you anything," Emily said frowning.

"Not a big deal. Come to Sloan's tonight, HRT is buying me drinks all night," he said, shooting a look at Frank and his guys, who couldn't help but chuckle.

"I bet," she said. "Still, I would have liked to get you at least a card."

Matt shrugged and fell into his chair, then he had a thought. There was one thing he wanted from her.

"There is something I want that you can give me," he said.

"Matt..." Lea warned, shooting him a look.

"Relax Lea, you really think I'd proposition her? In front of all you no less?" Matt said shaking his head.

Emily eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"Not what I was going to ask for, Lehman," he assured her.

"Oh, then what do you want?" She asked cautiously.

"Toss me your bag," he instructed, holding his hand out.

"What?" She asked confused. Why would he want her bag?

"Just hand it over for a minute," Matt repeated.

Emily obliged, wearily handing him her black messenger bag. Most of their coworkers had stopped whatever else they'd been doing, and were watching Matt curiously, as he began to dig through it. Even Lea delayed returning to his office. Frank and his guys hung around Matt and Emily's cubicles watching them.

"What the hell are you looking for in there, Flannery?" Frank asked.

Matt ignored him digging around, finally finding a hidden inside pocket, and plunging his hand in. He felt sharp cardboard edges, and knew he'd found what he wanted. He yanked the small box out of the bag, and held it out.

"No more of these," he told Emily, tossing the cigarettes in a garbage can.

"What?! You can't take my cigarettes," she insisted already nibbling on her lip.

"You want to give me something for my birthday, give me this. Quit killing yourself with that shit," Matt told her.

"I need my cigarettes," Emily said simply.

"No, you don't. You're addicted, so you think you do, but you don't," Matt persisted.

"He's right, you can go without them if you try," Cheryl agreed. She'd smoked in high school and part of college, but managed to quit. She was kind of touched by what Matt was asking for as his birthday gift.

"Come on Lehman, give the man his birthday wish," Frank urged.

"This is not fair," Emily said, eyes burning into Matt's, the first traces of hostility in her voice.

"You have to play dirty with addicts," he said, looking right back into her eyes.

Emily didn't respond. She wanted to object to being labeled an addict, but she knew that, that was exactly what she was. Still, she didn't know if she could give up her cigarettes just like that. Finally, Matt sighed.

"Fine, we'll compromise. You can have one a day, but you don't get it until the evening. You have to make it through the day without it, starting with today," he said.

"This is really what you want for your birthday?" Emily asked after thinking awhile.

"Yes. You no longer slowly killing yourself would be a great birthday gift," he said.

"Fine. I hate you, but fine," she told him. The CNU erupted in cheers and clapping, and Matt smiled.

"Thank you."

"You better hold onto them today," she sighed, already looking longingly at her cancersticks.

Matt picked them out of the garbage, held them up for her to see, set them in his top drawer, and twisted his key in the lock. He held the key up for her to see, and then tucked it in his, now red splotch-covered, shirt pocket.

Emily nodded. "Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?"

"You'll get over it," he shrugged.

Emily scowled, as she took her bag back from him, and turned to her desk, hoping paperwork and classes would keep her distracted.

* * *

By five-thirty that evening, she was so fidgety and jittery she felt like she was on speed. Emily chewed so hard on her lip all day, she tasted blood more than once. She needed a cigarette so badly, she was barely restraining herself from throwing Matt out of his chair, and ripping his desk drawer open. It was actually that visual that kept her from even asking for them. It was pretty damning proof that she had a nasty addiction.

At Sloan's she sucked her first beer down way too quickly, but it helped a little. It helped quiet the mania in her head just a little, enough so that she could pretend to be normal. Frank bought the first round for everyone, in honor of his best buddy's birthday. Matt wasn't quite as sore as he had been through most of the day. Of course, it was all going to hurt like hell tomorrow, and Frank was going to get an earful.

He turned to look at Emily, who was staring blankly toward the bar, clearly lost in her mind. She hadn't asked him for her cigarettes once today, he was surprised and impressed. She'd been fidgeting like a little kid, and gnawing on her lip all day, but still she hadn't come to him begging for a smoke. He was stunned she'd even agreed to it, though happy; he was tired of watching her slowly commit suicide.

"What'll it be for the next round gentlemen, and ladies," Shelly, one of the regular waitress, made sure to say, nodding at Emily and Cheryl.

"Everyone ready for another beer?" Duff asked, looking around, watching their large group nod.

"Yeah, and bring the birthday boy a few shots of whiskey," Frank added.

"That would be you, right?" She asked, looking at Matt.

"Yeah, that's me," he told her with a self-deprecating grin.

"Is someone going to drive you home?" She asked.

"Why, are you offering?" Matt grinned, flirting.

"You're cute Matt, but you're not that cute. Remember, I've seen what you boys take home," she said, giving a nod, mostly to Matt and Frank.

Cheryl and Emily chuckled, they knew exactly what she meant.

"That's cause no decent woman will have me," he joked, the table erupting in laughter.

"They're all too smart for that," Frank chuckled. Shelly rolled her at eyes them.

"I'll be right back with your beers and shots," she told them, walking way.

The conversation quickly resumed, and Matt took the moment to nod at Emily, and signaled her away from the table. It took a minute to get her attention, because she'd zoned out again, as her fingers danced around, pulling off the beer bottle label. She was also chewing on her lip again.

He ushered his confused coworker outside, and a few feet away from the door. Then Matt pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and handed the whole pack to her. Emily's mouth opened briefly in surprise, but she took them quickly, jamming one in her mouth. Her hands shook as she fumbled with her lighter, until she dropped it. Matt caught the lighter, and lit the cigarette for her.

Emily took a long drag, and the nervous energy wracking her body seemed to quiet a little just with that one inhalation. It felt so good, that nicotine flowing into her body, so nice. It was like a hot bath after a long, stressful day, soothing and utterly relaxing.

Matt watched the tension stressing her body, begin to ease as she inhaled that poison into her lungs. She looked so much happier sucking on that cancerstick, and Matt almost felt guilty for taking it away from her. Almost. She'd be a lot better off without them.

"So, am I going to have to turn my cigarettes into you everyday?" She asked sarcastically.

"Nope, they're all yours again," Matt said softly, smiling.

"Why? What makes you think I won't go home tonight, and chain smoke the rest of the pack?" She asked.

"I trust you not to," he said simply.

"Why?" Emily asked, frowning deeply.

"Because, I'm good at reading people...and because addicts can't quit unless it's their choice. I can try and force you and control as much as I want, but it won't work," he said shrugging.

"You speaking from experience here?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My dad was an alcoholic, I spent my teen years watching him drown himself in a bottle trying to forget my mother. We tried to get him to stop a thousand times, but it never worked. Then my brother's girlfriend got pregnant. I was twenty-one, he was twenty-four, and he told my dad that he wasn't ever going to see the kid, not unless he quit drinking. He checked himself into detox a week later, and has been sober since," Matt explained his family saga.

Of course, now his brother wasn't talking to him. Jake completely abstained from alcohol, afraid alcoholism might run in their family. Matt wasn't abstaining, he drank when he went out with the gang, but most of the time it was just beer. Jake didn't approve, and they'd gotten into world war III over it.

"I'm glad it turned out well." Emily looked away from his eyes awkwardly, not sure what to do or say. He'd just divulged something very personal, not something they did often.

"Yeah…thanks." Matt avoided looking at her too, just as uncomfortable. He'd told that story to Cheryl and Frank, no one else. It wasn't something he'd have willingly told anyone else, but Emily…there was something about her that he couldn't place. It wasn't that she was just trustworthy, but something more. He just couldn't figure it out.

"You about ready to go in?" He watched her grind down her cigarette butt with her shoe.

"Yep, let's go." Short, sweet, and about as much as she had to say under the awkward circumstances.

Matt gestured Emily ahead, playing the chivalrous gentleman, and followed her back into Sloan's to his birthday gathering. They could hear their friends laughing at something practically from the doorway, and couldn't wait to find out what was so funny.

* * *

_Sorry for the extreme delay in updating, if you follow my stories, you know I don't do that often, if ever. Thank you for reading, and thanks to previous reviewers and future reviewers._


	8. Chapter 8

Emily stuffed a cherry lollipop in her mouth, and studied her report from a case a week ago. Lollipops, M&Ms, Reese's pieces, nuts, and gum had been the only things keeping her from literally ripping her hair out. As long as she was stuffing something in her mouth, she could live without her cigarettes. It wasn't as bad now, after six weeks without a single cigarette, but she still had to keep her mouth busy pretty often.

She'd decided that night after leaving Sloan's, that she wanted to quit completely. If she was weaning herself down to a cigarette a day, she may as well go the way. At least this way, she'd only have to face withdrawal once, not twice. And, on god, withdrawal was a bitch. A mean, torturous, snarling bitch that made her grouchy, short-tempered, and fat.

Yep, Emily had put on twenty pounds in less than two months. It was funny that, that more than anything else pissed her off. Her training told her that it was easier to be pissed that she'd gained weight, than admit she was pissed because she missed her cigarettes. That would make her feel weak. If she felt weak, she'd feel stupid and self-loathing, and that would lead to wondering what the point in trying to be healthy, trying to be better. That would become a relapse.

She hadn't told anyone she'd stopped smoking completely, so they all still assumed she was smoking when she got home. Still, her colleagues congratulated and encouraged her, especially Matt, who still wasn't taking her occasional glares personally. If she was feeling particularly hostile, she took a break to visit HRT in the basement, where Frank was happy to give her a big gun, and then her fire paintballs at whatever she wanted.

Still, she needed those damn lollipops. They were actually Cheryl's idea. She'd left a bouquet of various flavors on Emily's desk the morning after Matt's birthday, with a note that the candy had helped her.

"Matt, do you have plans tonight?" Emily dropped her report and leaned toward his and Cheryl's cubicle.

"Uh no, why?" He turned to her curiously.

"Good, you're going to the gym with me tonight."

"Why are we going to the gym?" He frowned.

"I gained twenty pounds since you took my cigarettes, you're going to be my workout buddy until it's gone."

Matt's eyebrows rose, and he turned his head around, studying her. He smirked, clearly disbelieving.

"You're not fat, Lehman."

"The scale disagrees with you, Flannery."

"You don't need to lose weight, you look fine," he insisted, turning completely around to face her.

"Yes, I do. I have an extra twenty pounds that I blame you for, so you're going to help me work it off."

Cheryl laughed, facing her computer, but completely ignoring her paperwork. The conversation behind her was a whole lot more entertaining.

Matt shot an unfriendly look as his partners back, before focusing again on Emily. "Fine, I will go with you tonight, but I guarantee you ask anyone in this office, and they'll say you're still skinny."

"A scale is unbiased and it can't lie, so I'm going to trust that." Twenty pounds, she'd put on a whole twenty pounds. How can someone not notice that much extra weight? God, she saw that on her scale she was afraid to see herself naked.

So maybe she was being a little neurotic about it, but she was a woman living in LA. You couldn't date in that city without being completely neurotic about your appearance. You had to be beautiful, even if it wasn't real beauty. Skinny in LA was very different than skinny in the rest of the world. No matter what Matt said. It's not like she'd be dating him anyway, so his opinion didn't count.

* * *

"Alright, what are we doing first?" Matt turned to Emily, dressed in his typical workout clothes—shorts and a t-shirt.

"Warm up on the treadmills and go from there," Emily instructed, typing her hair back, and adjusting her tank-top and stretchy cotton workout pants.

Matt nodded and led the way to the treadmills, through the maze of workout machines inhabited by their Bureau colleagues. One of the perks of job where you're theoretically supposed to stay physically fit, is a gym on the second floor. Obviously, most field offices didn't have built in gyms, but FBI-LA had a lot of field agents. It was cheaper than handing out free gym memberships.

The tapped the buttons on the machines to pick speed and height of incline, and nearly started at the same time. It had really been too long since either of them had worked out. After you pass the academy tests, it's just easy to let it slide. Needless to say, they both started out pretty easy, and worked their ways to jogs, then runs. Of course, that they made it to running, boosted their spirits a bit.

Then Matt's pocket began to chirp, and the caller ID on his cell told him that his boss was coming.

"Flannery."

"Matt, I need you here, we have a situation, I already called Cheryl back in," Lea's voice barked over the phone.

"Yes sir," he answered obediently, stowing his phone back in his pocket.

"Crisis?" Emily asked, turning toward him.

"Yeah, looks like you're on your own." Matt hit the warm-down button, and slowed to a walk before the machine finally stopped.

"You're so lucky," Emily muttered.

"I'll join you the next time you go." Matt promised, before shrugging and taking off. Work doesn't wait, not when your work is armed, unhappy person.

Emily shook her head. Oh well, she still had twenty pounds that she needed to make disappear. On the bright side, she was struggling so hard to just breathe while she ran, that she couldn't imagine putting a cigarette in her mouth.

What the hell had the past 16 years of smoking done to her lungs? How the hell had she made it through the academy with that rattle in her chest?

The treadmill suddenly switched to a steeper incline, which she'd programmed it to do when she could still breathe, and she began to cough. More than just a rattle, she had yank oxygen past the coat of phlegm in her throat.

"Are you okay?"

Emily turned to where Matt had been to see a petit blonde woman eyeing her with concern. She didn't recognize the woman, who looked very young, a little too young to Bureau, or at least an agent.

"Yeah, apparently I didn't quit smoking soon enough," Emily muttered, pressing the off button, and coughing violently to get her lungs working again.

"When did you quit?"

"Six weeks ago," Emily managed after her coughing fit subsided.

"I guess you started as a teenager?"

"Yeah, stole my sister's cigarettes when I was sixteen."

"Well six weeks is good, congratulations."

"Thanks…" Emily let it hang, waiting for the young woman to fill in here name.

"Oh sorry, Lia Mathers, I work up in the CNU…sort of."

"Emily Lehman. What do you mean sort of?"

"I work in R-Sims, an analyst, or at least I will be once they finish putting me through the paces." Lia rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated with the process.

"No wonder I never met you. I'm a negotiator, so we'll be working together."

"Oh great, I haven't met any of the negotiators yet, just SAC Lea." The young woman seemed to brighten with the news.

"You looking for a workout partner?" Emily offered.

"Sure, I don't really know anyone here anyway."

"Great, mine just bailed on me."

"That cute guy that just ran out of here?" Lia asked.

Emily laughed. "That would be him, just don't say that in front of him, it makes him blush."

"Oh? That's kind of sweet."

Emily laughed again. "Don't tell him that either."

Poor Matt would be so embarrassed…to be pretty, cute and sweet?

"He's not your…is he?" Lia gestured rather than say the word. It took Emily a minute to catch on.

"Oh god no! No, I don't date coworkers, just a disaster waiting to happen." Emily explained wide-eyed, as they moved over to the Ab machines.

"Yeah, I completely agree. I just wasn't sure…you know."

Emily nodded, un-offended as she leaned up and down, working away the weight she was convinced she'd gained.

"Though you know," Lia paused her own motions, turning to Emily with a grin, "I've heard those guys in HRT are pretty yummy."

* * *

"Lehman, who's your friend?" Matt asked, skipping saying good morning. He was surprised to see his almost workout partner chatting at her desk with young, blonde woman.

"Matt Flannery, Lia Mathers, and that very patient woman over there is his partner, Cheryl Carrera. Lia is the new analyst in R-Sims." The red-head made introductions, as Cheryl followed Matt over to talk. The pair had gotten in at nearly the same time, both looking exhausted.

"It's nice to meet you, Lia," Cheryl extended a hand, as did Matt, welcoming the young computer whiz.

"Likewise. I'm excited, I get to hack legally," she grinned.

"Miss Mathers I see you've met some of our negotiators," Lea joined them.

"Yes sir."

"These ladies are two of the Bureau's best and brightest," he said proudly.

"What about me?" Matt asked, eyebrow raised.

"You're damn good, Flannery, but you're a pain in my ass."

"I try my best sir," Matt answered completely straight-faced.

Lea scowled at Matt and shook his head, retreating to his office. Cheryl and Emily laughed as he went off, both rolling their eyes at Matt's cocky grin and shrug.

"So Mathers, how much illegal hacking have you done?" Matt asked.

"I plead the fifth," she grinned.

"How did your negotiation go last night?" Emily looked between her fellow negotiators.

"It sucked. She was primary." Matt half-heartedly gestured to Cheryl.

"It sucked," Cheryl agreed. "HT took a truck driver delivering Little Debbie cakes hostage, and spent the night lecturing us on preservatives and how artificial ingredients are killing people, and giving kids autism."

"I wasn't aware Little Debbie caused autism." Emily wasn't quite sure what to say.

Cheryl shrugged, shaking her head in exasperation, stopping abruptly when Matt spoke, voice low and ominous. "Little Debbie was wrongfully accused."

His female coworkers stared at him, not sure what to do. Then he grinned.

Emily laughed. Cheryl rolled her eyes at her partner.

"I'm so glad that's all you guys." Lia shook her head.

The analyst attention was suddenly diverted when a handful of men wearing all black came into the CNU, laughing and fooling around. "Who are they?"

Her curiosity was thoroughly peaked, as they were a rather nice-looking bunch.

"HRT. Keep your distance, they're a bunch of hounds," Cheryl warned.

"They're not that bad," Matt insisted. Cheryl gave him a look.

Lia turned to Emily, eyebrows raised, questioning.

"They're fun, but Cheryl's right, they're hounds." She enjoyed hanging out with HRT, but more than one hit on her when she first came. They were macho men, with active libidos. Several were happily married though, so not all were hounds.

Lia nodded, but was still focused on the guys messing around, especially the short one. He had dark hair, shaved down very close to his head. She shook herself out of staring; she'd be weary. Lia had had plenty of casual relationships, and sex with stupid, but nice-looking men. She'd grown out of that rather quickly.

* * *

_I'm so sorry I didn't update this for over a month, but things had serious writer's block with this. This next part should be easier to get done. Thanks for being patient, and thanks for reading!_


	9. Chapter 9

"He's announcing it today right?" Emily looked up from her the lettuce she was trying to spear to her coworker.

"That's what I heard. Are you okay?" Matt eyed her tense hand, and tortured lettuce. She seemed to be pissed at her salad.

"Fine, just getting tired of salads." Along with her exercise routine, Emily had taken to eating salads with grilled--not fried, not baked, but grilled--chicken strips, over the last few months in order to loose weight. If she never saw another peice of grilled chicken again, she'd die a happy woman.

"So, eat something real then."

"I can't, I'm still trying to lose weight." She would keep her quitting weight off if it killed her.

"Jesus Lehamn, how long have you been at that? Whatever you think was there is gone, in fact I think you're thinner now than you were before all this started. Stop before you become a skeleton." Matt shook his head in exasperation.

"I'm not going to turn into a skeleton. I don't starve myself."

"What the hell do you call all the rabbit food you've been eating the last few months? Besides, a little extra weight would be good for you, for you know, when you have to tackle a perp."

Emily's eyebrows rose. "Tackle a perp? Matt, when was the last time you 'tackled a perp'?"

"It could happen." He shrugged, and focused back on his sandwich.

"Yo, Flannery, Lehman, get upstairs, Lea is about to make his big announcement." Frank was suddenly in front of them.

"He's doing it now?" Emily gaped.

"Yes, he sent HRT to find everyone not already up there, so move it."

Matt and Emily exchanged a look, and then disposed of the rest of their lunches. She wasn't sad to see her salad go, she'd barely touched it anyway.

* * *

The CNU was literally buzzing when they got back. Every CNU agent, analyst, and HRT agent in the Bureau was gathered in the small bullpen, wondering what the big announcement was. There had been rumors, sure, and speculation, but no one was quite sure what it was. Now people were passing conjecture around like the common cold.

Matt looked around for Cheryl, but couldn't find her, so he followed Emily to where Lia was waving at them. Frank had disappeared to make sure all his guys were among the crowd.

"What do you think this is all about?" The analyst asked excitedly.

"If you follow rumors, Lea is leaving," Emily offered.

At that moment, Lea finally stepped out of his office, Cheryl behind him, and raise his arms in an attempt to quiet them down. "Quiet everyone!"

The large crowd slowly fell silent, and turned toward Lea, eager to have their curiosity finally satisfied.

"As you've all been informed, there are about to be some big changes in the CNU. That's what I want to talk to you about now. First and foremost, the Upper-ups in Washington have seen fit to promote me. I will be leaving the CNU and LA, to join take the AD position in Salt Lake City, recently vacated by the late Jed Henderson." He paused and let that bit of knowledge sink in.

He'd been working with Washington and Salt Lake City on this transition for just under a month. After much deliberation and debate, he was confident that he was leaving his CNU in the best hands possible.

The buzz turned on again, and Matt and Emily exchanged looks, wondering what else was coming. Were they going to get some miserable hard-ass from DC running things?

Lea shushed them all again. "Next thing, obviously the CNU still needs an SSAC, and I really feel very confident about my decision in this regard. I will allow SSAC Carrera, your new leader, make the rest of the announcements."

He smiled and stepped back, nudging Cheryl forward toward their coworkers, now her subordinates. The room took two seconds to go from stunned silence to clapping and cheering. Cheryl followed the sound of a wolf whistle to her partner--well, former partner now. She breathed for the first time in ten minutes. Now, all she had to worry about was Sam.

"I expect you to give her the same respect as you all gave me," Lea added, quieting them down again.

"Okay, thank you everyone for that congratulations, and I have a few more announcements. As you know Larry hasn't been here the last few days, and that's because he's been in the hospital. He had a heart attack, be his wife has assured us that he's doing well. He's also retiring as of today, there's a very large get well/happy retirement card in the conference room to sign." She paused, and looked at Emily.

She was battling between being concerned for her partner, and over the moon thrilled that he was retiring, and she'd be getting a new partner. Matt whispered in her ear, a big smile on his face, teasing her about how happy she must be.

"Special Agent McAllister will be joining us Monday from the Great Falls, Montana office."

Emily's face fell. Seriously, some yahoo from Montana was her new partner? Did the Bureau hate her for some reason?

"Agent McAllister won't be immediately partnered with anyone, he'll be observing our current negotiators. And, the Bureau is a little short on negotiators, so there won't be anyone replacing me yet. Which means, Flannery, Lehman, congratulations, your partners."

Emily's eyes lit. Oh thank god, she was finally getting a talented negotiator as a partner.

"Good luck with that, Lehman," Frank shouted, grinning.

Matt flipped him off with a smile on his face. He was a little bummed to be losing Cheryl, but Emily was a damn good negotiator, so he was okay with it.

"Oh, and one last thing, a congratulations and warning to both of you. Washington informed us that both of you made it into the top five--" She didn't get to finish as applause and cheering went up.

Matt and Emily took it gracefully, though albeit awkwardly.

Cheryl waved her hands. "Alright, I'm not done, quiet down. No other team in the country has two from the top five, that essentially makes you two the best team the Bureau has, and that, obviously means that they will be watching you both very intently for a while."

She watched the smiles dissolve from their faces. Washington looking over their shoulders was going to make their jobs that much more difficult. Some people laughed, some offered sympathetic looks, and Temple and Binder both grimaced. Any jealousy they might have felt was essentially killed.

"Okay, on that note, celebration at Sloan's later," Cheryl announced, dismissing them back to work. She made her way over to Matt, who was watching with an amused expression. Emily had moved off to talk to Lia, in that excited way that women do.

"How long have you known you were being promoted?"

Cheryl shrugged. "A week and a half."

"Congratulations." He smiled, and hugged his close friend and partner of the last five years.

"Thanks..." She still didn't look thrilled, and Matt knew why.

"Have you talked to Sam yet?"

"We discussed it, we argued, and we're supposed to finish that talk tonight." Cheryl looked off toward their cubicle, soon to be his and Emily's cubicle, reluctant to discuss it further.

"Well, good luck with that...do you know how you want to handle this?"

"Yeah, I know what I want." She offered a tired smile. Matt squeezed her hand briefly, as they lapsed into silence.

After a few seconds he desperately needed to break the serious mood. "Does this mean I have to call you ma'am?"

Cheryl rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Lehman, you look like a tease sucking on that lollipop," Chuck from HRT commented, watching Emily absently play with her cherry-flavored lollipop. The guys at the table chuckled.

They were in Sloan's, gathered around a handful of tables and part of the bar, celebrating all the changes coming to the CNU. It was Lea's last night with them, so everyone was buying him drinks, and he was on his way to drunk. Cheryl had disappeared from the table when Sam came in, but they'd been buying her drinks too, for her last night as one of the grunts. Monday everything would change.

"Oh yeah? I'll make sure to do it for my boyfriend then." She smiled.

Bars always made her want to smoke, it was probably the scent of stale cigarettes in the air. It hung around, even after years of no smoking laws.

"Boyfriend, who's the lucky guy?" Frank took a swig of his Guinness.

"Andy Taylor."

"The US attorney?" Their friends seemed to share his surprise.

"Yep. Why so surprised?" She eyed them skeptically.

Frank shrugged. "Didn't picture you as into lawyers."

"You didn't tell me you were seeing him," Matt said, clearly a little miffed.

"I didn't know you were into girl talk," she said, lips pursed in an amused smile.

The guys chuckled, and Matt looked mildly embarrassed. "You told me about the butt doctor."

"You asked about him."

Matt blinked, started to work out her logic in his head, and abruptly decided against it. "Whatever. How's it going with Taylor?"

"As well as it usually does when you've only been dating someone for a few weeks." She shrugged, she didn't tend to put much stock in relationships, they always blew up.

"The Bureau's reigning optimist," Frank joked.

"Let's discuss someone else's love life," Emily suggested, turning to Frank. "Frank, who's the flavor of the week?"

"I resent that." His friends shared the same opinion on his dating habits, and chuckled at his comments.

They continued talking, laughing, celebrating, and lamenting the changes to come as the waitress brought a fresh pitcher of beer and a plat of buffalo wings. It wasn't fifteen minutes after that conversation that Matt caught sight of Cheryl slipping out of the back area of Sloan's. Sam was already at the door, and left hurriedly. Cheryl looked like a bus had just side-swiped her, maybe even like she was struggling not to cry. She made for the door, but Matt made it over before she opened it.

"It didn't go well with Sam?"

Cheryl went to speak, but then simply inhaled and shook her head.

Matt rested a hand gently on her arm, and led her out of Sloan's. She was so stunned by her disastrous evening, that she didn't protest when he piled her into his car, and drove to her apartment. Matt followed her upstairs and inside her apartment, and grabbed two beers from her fridge before returning to the living room. Cheryl was still staring off into space, and Matt was growing a bit worried. He sat facing her on the blue microfiber couch, and handed her a beer.

"Tell me what happened." That this was usually a between girlfriends thing, wasn't lost on Matt, but she needed someone, and he was there.

"We broke up."

"So, I gathered." He waited and when she didn't respond, he prompted her again. "What did you tell him about the promotion, about how you wanted to handle the Bureau's rules?"

"I asked him to marry me...he turned me down." There was no inflection in her voice, but it was soft, almost as if she was in a dream.

Matt stared at her in surprise, not sure what to say, as tears began trickling slowly from her eyes down her cheeks.

He didn't need to ask anymore questions, he knew why Sam said no, it was why he'd wished Cheryl luck talking to him. She outranked him now. But, Matt hadn't expected him to be quite that much of a Neanderthal. Of course, he didn't know how he'd feel had he been in Sam's position, but to turn her down outright? To not even take the time to see if he could handle it? He and Cheryl had been dating forever, and to throw it all away just like that?

And, Cheryl just sat there, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

Matt had seen her cry twice before. Once was when her grandfather died, the other time was when they lost a seven year-old hostage while she was primary. She'd blamed herself.

With nothing else to do, Matt shifted closer, and wrapped his arms around his best friend, pulling her against his body, and letting her cry it out on his shoulder.

Cheryl didn't resist. She trusted Matt, and right then, his willingness to offer comfort meant the world to her. The man she loved just left her, because he couldn't accept her out-ranking him. If things had been reversed, she would have been expected to accept his out-ranking her without a problem. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he could throw away the last three years that easily, when the thought of spending even one night without him was ripping a hole in her chest.

She held tighter to Matt, as if she could push some of her pain into him. It had always been platonic with him. There was maybe a mutual attraction when they first met, but it soon became apparent that, while they'd make great friends, romance between them would be like kissing a sibling. That served them well though, after five years, they trusted each other like only partners could. She relied on that trust, that friendship now.

Tonight was their last night as partners, and tonight, he'd help her get through hell.

* * *

_So, this one was a little sad, but Sam is a prick, so blame him. Next up is Matt and Em's first negotiation as partners, and I'm up for ideas as to what that should be, if anyone has any (yes, even I run out of ideas now and again). Thanks for reading, and thank you all so much for sticking with this story through my horribly sporadic updating!_


	10. Chapter 10

_So, I have half of their first negotiation written, and suddenly couldn't finish it, so I wrote this instead. If I do figure out how to finish that, I'll post it where it belongs in the story (yes, that will be weird). In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

The breeze whipped his hair back, cooling him off, but not chilling him. It was a warm March, even by LA's standards, and Matt was enjoying it in style. Black leather jacket, t-shirt, jeans, sunglasses, all leaning against the softest leather seats he'd ever felt. The Rolling Stones blasted from the stereo, a satellite thing tuned to a classic rock station. All he needed was a beautiful woman in the passenger seat, and his strongest fantasies since he was ten would finally be realized.

He finally got it.

The Vista Blue, 2006 Mustang GT convertible.

His hands tightened around the leather covered steering wheel, feeling the power of the eight-cylinder transmission pulsating through him. No birthday could ever top this one. Well, losing his virginity for his sixteenth birthday might beat it, but it would be a hell of a battle.

Matt downshifted, slowing the car down as he approached Sloan's, noting with a certain amount of satisfaction, that everybody was just arriving and still in the parking lot. The looks on their faces would make this that much better.

He guided the Mustang smoothly into a parking space, his entrance earning the attention of his friends, and killed the engine.

"Flannery, where the hell did you get that?" Frank walked over, studying every royal blue curve and edge.

"Birthday gift to myself," he answered.

"I don't believe it, you actually bought one." Emily grinned, walking up to her partner.

"Told you, as soon as I paid down the credit cards..."

"Hey Matt, did you ever see the Muscle Car Babes 1982 calendar?" Duff asked, eyeing the Mustang with something akin to lust.

"You kidding? I think I still have that. Miss May, right?" Matt rested a hand on the bumper.

Duff nodded, smiling.

Cheryl's eyebrows rose. "Who was Miss May?"

"A beautiful twenty-two year-old brunette, who laid on the trunk of a blue 68' Shelby Mustang. My first experience in lust," Matt explained.

Cheryl nodded. "Yeah, I figured I didn't really want to know that."

"You two both have that calendar memorized?" Emily looked at them skeptically.

"I wouldn't say memorized," Duff tried. "But '82 was the second to last year the calendar was published, and Miss May on a classic Mustang? You don't forget that."

"What do you know, the porn industry practices alliteration," Cheryl cracked.

Emily chuckled.

"So," Frank turned to Matt grinning, "when do I get to take her for a spin?"

"Ha! You? Are you kidding? Trust my brand new, hard-earned, pride and joy to Mad Max? Not a chance." He shook his head and started toward Sloan's.

"Duff's just as bad."

"And who says Duff is touching her either?" Matt scowled at both men, holding the door open for his partner and boss, ever the gentleman.

Emily rolled her eyes. "How about you guys stop referring to the car like it actually has a sex?"

"Don't bother Emily, cars will always be shes to them," Cheryl said, sliding into the booth already occupied by several of their coworkers.

"Matt man, nice ride," Temple told him. This was followed similar murmurs of appreciation and awe by half the guys they worked with. Even Jake, the bartender came out to off his congratulations and slap Matt on the back.

Emily suddenly laughed. Her eyes were lit, and she nodded her head, as if she'd just made a discovery.

"What's so funny Lehman?" Frank looked at her skeptically.

"It's amazing," she said. "That car just earned him all your instant respect and admiration. He didn't have to do anything impressive, he just had a have an attractive car, and suddenly you all think he's a demigod. It's interesting, if we'd been doctors, or stockbrokers or even lawyers, it would be a Mercedes, or a Bentley or something like that. High school students, it would be anything will four wheels that runs, college students, whatever fits a keg of beer. The requirements for the object changes, but the group dynamic, the over-all reaction of the group remains static."

By the time she finished, she was chewing on her lip, her eyes focused on something far off in her mind. The rest of the group was silent, caught off guard by her sudden analysis. Then Frank broke the awkward silence.

"Stop psycho-analyzing us, Lehman, and have a beer."

She snapped out of it, and focused back on everyone, who were all laughing at Frank's comment. Duff handed her a beer, which she accepted gratefully.

Binder looked at her. "So you don't think that's a beautiful car?"

She grinned. "Well, I didn't say that. In fact..." She turned to Matt. "When do I get to drive it?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think you'll get to drive it?"

"I'm your partner."

"So? That doesn't mean you get to touch my baby."

Emily bit her lip, stifling a smile. She enjoyed bantering with him. "Well, then think of it as a reward."

Matt crossed his arms over his chest, the corners of his mouth turned up in an amused little grin. "A reward for what?"

"How about, for not touching a cigarette in a year as of today."

He started, dropping his arms. "Wait, what?"

"Consider that your birthday present this year, I forgot again." She shrugged self-deprecatingly.

"You haven't been smoking at home?" All traces of humor were gone from his face, he looked almost in disbelief.

"I figured if I was going to get down to one cigarette a day, I might as well just give them up altogether."

"Why didn't you mention that?"

"Less pressure on me to quit," she paused shifted nervously under his very intense gaze. She sighed. "Matt, would you please stop looking at me like I've grown a third eye?"

The previously silent group at the table chuckled at her plea, as Matt shook himself out of his shock. Then he did the last thing Emily, and really the entire group, was expecting, he moved closer to her and hugged her.

Emily's eyes went wide initially. She and Matt were pretty close for being partners only a few months, but they were not the touchy-feely type. Hell, they were all cops, none of them were touchy-feely. But now her rather attractive partner had his arms around her.

Not to offend him, she reciprocated, and found it was awkward and comfortable all at the same time.

"Congratulations," he said stepping back.

"Uh thanks." Emily slid onto a nearby stool, and took a long sip of beer.

She ignored Frank's raised eyebrows, Duff's amused grin, and Cheryl's questioning, slightly worried expression. One friendly hug, and their boss suspects they're involved?

"So," Frank drew the tables attention back, "how drunk are we getting the birthday boy this year?"

* * *

They didn't start packing it in until around midnight, when Matt was shot of whiskey away from not being able to walk a straight line (or maybe at all). Emily had had much less to drink, even though the guys bought her drinks for the night as a congratulations on quitting.

"Uh, is someone going to take Flannery's keys before he wreaks that beautiful car?" Temple looked skeptically at his intoxicated coworker.

Frank and Duff were grinning, pleased with a job well-done. Cheryl had already left for the night, tired and looking at an unfortunate Saturday morning work meeting. Being the boss had it's downsides.

"I've got him," Emily said, holding her hand out at her partner.

"What?" Matt's tone was snappish, though at least he didn't slur.

"Don't I get to drive?"

"My baby? My...my...my...oh shit, did the room just spin?"

Emily smirked. "Only in your head. Keys."

Held slowly lowered them to her palm, his moves overly deliberate. "Be gentle with her, she's brand new."

"Relax Matt, your precious hunk of metal is in good hands." Emily shook her head, and looked over at Frank and Duff. "You two are helping me get him into the car."

They chuckled, but didn't question her order, or bother trying to resist it. Even though she was getting to drive the beautiful car home. They were too drunk to anyway, they be going home in cabs.

With an arm under one shoulder, Frank escorted his friend through the parking lot to the shiny Mustang, and piled him in successfully, however clumsily. Emily was already sliding into the driver's seat, and inserting the key into the ignition. The Mustang started up with a throaty rumbling, and drunken Matt smiling and nodding his head in pride.

"Uh, you'll be okay getting this idiot home?" Frank eyed Matt skeptically, wondering if maybe they shouldn't have given him that last shot.

"We'll be fine," Emily assured him, pressing the button to fold the top down.

"You sure driving through LA at midnight with the top down is a good idea?"

"We're both armed, and I have a feeling after Matt sobers up, no one is ever getting in this driver's seat but him, so I'm going to enjoy this while I can."

"Alright, see you Monday then." He backed away and waved her off.

It had been a while since Emily drove stick, but it came back easily enough to her. She pushed the car up a gear, and drove through a green light. After two minutes driving though, she was glad for a red light, as it gave her a chance to thrown her hair up into a pony tail, and glance over at her companion.

The cool wind singing over his cheeks helped sober Matt up a little, enough that remembered his partner was driving. He recalled his earlier thought, and laughed to himself, though apparently loud enough for Emily to hear.

"What's funny?" She asked, glancing over.

"Eyes on the road at all times when you're driving my Mustang," he instructed her.

She rolled her eyes, but focused back on the road, still wondering what made her partner suddenly laugh.

It wasn't quite what he'd imaged, but Matt's longtime fantasy came to be on his thirty-third birthday. He was his dream car, classic rock on the stereo, the wind whistling through his hair, and a beautiful woman sitting beside him. That it was his partner was irrelevant. She didn't have to know she brought one of his fantasies to life, but while it was there, he was damn well going to enjoy it.

He leaned back into the soft leather seat, and enjoyed the rest of the ride to Emily's apartment. He enjoyed it so much, he drifted off to sleep.

"Matt…Matt," Emily nudged his shoulder.

"Huh?" He blinked awake and looked around.

"Past your bedtime?" She teased.

"Yeah, when you drank as much as I did." He noted that they were parked across the street of her apartment building.

"You're not sober enough to drive home, why don't you crash at my place tonight?"

"Are you coming on to me, Lehman?" He grinned.

"Sure, if you have the hots for my couch, cause that's where you're sleeping," she answered, pulling the keys from the ignition, and hoping out of the car.

"And here I thought I could get you to break a rule." Matt made his own attempt at getting out of the car, but had to hold onto the roof to steady himself.

"Alright, come on, lean on me," Emily instructed, leaning close to him.

Matt was going to protest and insist he was fine, but the minute he let go of the car, he stumbled. Rather than end up crawling across the street, he leaned on his partner, and together they made it across the road.

"Thank god my building has an elevator," Emily mumbled. She couldn't imagine struggling up stairs together, though maybe that would qualify as team building and save them from the Bureau's asinine seminars.

They made it into her apartment, and over to the couch, where Emily abruptly released her grip, and Matt fell into the sofa heavily.

"Mmm, comfy sofa," he said, burrowing into the cushions, oblivious that Emily had left the room. It was a good thing he hadn't tried to drive home, because he passed out in minutes.

Emily found him curled against the back of the couch, snoring softly. She smiled, and draped the blanket she'd collected over him. She had never seen Matt vulnerable, pissed, upset, hurt, but not vulnerable, like he was now. She stood and watched him for several minutes, before turning and heading off to her own bedroom.

After she'd changed, she had a second thought, and went into her kitchen. Two bottles of water from the fridge, and a handful of ibuprofen later, she set half her loot down on the coffee table, and put the other half on her nightstand. She'd wake up with a headache, but Matt would wake up feeling like a train drove over him.

She didn't let herself think too much about the fact that her partner and close friend was asleep in her living room. Those thoughts might take her to some scary places, so Emily simply shut off her bedside light, and burrowed into her own pillow, whispering one last little thought.

"Happy Birthday Matt."


	11. Chapter 11

_It's been a long couple months, so forgive me for leaving you all hanging for so long. Here's a nice long chapter, and thanks for not forgetting about it!_

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me!" Emily growled, falling on to the hotel bed.

Matt viewed her in amusement. "I'm just the messenger. Did you have something important to get back to?

She sat up and looked at him skeptically. "Matt, have you ever gone to one of these things?"

"No. Cheryl and I were always busy working on those days, I guess." He shrugged.

"They're pointless. They try and force you to get close to people by every way imaginable, short of holding hands and singing Kumbaya. Way too cozy."

He pretended to be offended, "You don't want to get cozy with me?"

"It's not you I have a problem getting cozy with."

Matt's eyebrows rose up toward his hairline, small smile on his mouth.

Emily realized what she said, and rolled her eyes at him. "That's not what I meant."

Matt laughed. "It's just a team building seminar, how bad could it be?"

"Plenty bad, especially since we've barely had any sleep," she insisted.

They'd been working a spree of convenience store robberies in Denver for the better part of a week. They caught the robbers at midnight, and finished paperwork an hour and a half later, and made it to their hotel beds around three a.m. It was now seven a.m. on Thursday, and while they were more than ready to run to the airport and get a flight home, the Bureau had other plans. Cheryl called to tell them to unpack, their flight had been postponed until Saturday. They were to attend the Bureau team building seminar all of Thursday and Friday.

The seminar started in an hour.

Matt shrugged. "We'll grab some coffee, and we'll both feel better," he said, escorting her out of his room, and to their rental.

--

An hour later, they were tossing their emptied coffee cups in the garbage, and trudging along in a line into the Denver woods. They'd played meet and greet with their fellow Bureau prisoners, who were all lucky enough to be staying in the large, out of the way hotel the Bureau scored for the seminar. Since they were already booked at a hotel in the city, Matt and Emily had been given special privileges to leave without attending the dinner that night. Matt was sure Emily was going to do a happy jig when she heard that, but his ever-professional partner simply nodded politely at the event organizers.

Art, Scott and Mindy were their leaders for the seminar. They all acted like a bunch of excited cheerleaders, and Matt and Emily had already exchanged whispered quips at their expense.

He leaned over to whisper to her. "If we get stuck out here, I say we eat them first."

Emily laughed and whispered back, "Then we should go with Scott, he's got the most muscle."

"You shopping, Lehman?" He teased.

She wrinkled her nose. "Peppy is not my type."

He chuckled, relieved for some reason that she wasn't attracted to the peppy meathead. Now there was a special combination.

Suddenly the march stopped, about five yards from a thirty foot cliff that was so steep, it had to be at an almost 90 degree angle to the ground. There was a large clearing around them and the base of the cliff, but tall, full evergreens surrounded them, except for the path they'd come up.

"Alright folks! We've arrived at our first exercise. Now, before we start here we need a volunteer. Who wants to help us out!" Mindy spoke gleefully and grinned like a moron.

Not one of the eighteen agents assembled volunteered.

"Okay, then we'll just have to pick one of you." Art scanned the group, looking at their nametags. "Emily! How about you come up here and help us out!"

Matt had to cover his mouth to keep from bursting into hysterics, especially when Emily turned toward him long enough to show the death glare she was wearing.

Scott approached Emily, spoke quickly to her, and together they disappeared farther into the woods. Matt wasn't so sure he liked that. She was his partner, it was his job to watch her back, even around meathead cheerleaders.

"Alright, we're going to be doing some climbing and repelling with this cliff. One of you will be on top, and one of you will be on the bottom," Art explained, eliciting laughter from the not entirely mature FBI agents.

"Come on now, you're all adults," Mindy admonished them.

Matt still laughed, he'd have to tell Emily about that later.

"Now, you're all field agents, so even if you haven't yet, you will eventually be put in some tough situations with your partner. Quite possibly you'll have to trust them with your life. So, it's very important that you get to know your partner very well, until you can say you trust them with your life. That is what this seminar is about, building that trust with your partner. Scott, with Emily's help, is going to show us the importance of doing this exercise with someone you trust." Art took that moment to turn toward Cindy who was on a radio, talking presumably with Scott.

Matt scoffed. If they thought Emily was going to trust Scott just because they told her too, well they were in for a surprise. She didn't trust anyone easily.

"Alright everyone, wave to Scott and Emily way up there." Mindy waved excitedly.

Matt wanted to puke.

Emily stood on top of the cliff with her back to the wall, wearing a red helmet and a harness. Scott was in front of her, holding onto the cord attached to Emily's harness. He nodded to her, and she started repelling down the side of the cliff.

"Watch closely now, Emily is coming down steadily, and Scott is helping her out. That's teamwork, she's trusting him to help her down. But folks, Emily doesn't know Scott, and probably wouldn't trust him to watch her back. Someone you don't know, who you don't trust, might just do this." Art's face went serious suddenly.

Then his hand went up, and Matt watched in horror as Emily lost her grip, and rather than be caught by the rope, she fell toward the ground. He heard her yell as her body seemed to descend in slow motion, and he ran to catch her, knowing he was too far away, he'd be too late. Then five feet from the ground, she suddenly stopped falling.

His heart pounding in his ears, less then ten feet from the cliff, Matt stopped and stared. What the hell was going on? His pounding heart took a backseat to Emily's angry voice.

"What the hell are you doing! Are you nuts!" She was looking up and yelling at Scott.

Scott eased her down to the ground, and Mindy went over and put a hand on her arm. "It's alright, he wouldn't have dropped you, we were proving a point."

It was sufficiently proven, as seventeen of the eighteen agents were silent, almost disturbingly silent. Emily stripped off the helmet and gear, even angrier than she'd been before. If they needed a volunteer again, they were going to have to find another one, because she wasn't going to have any part in it.

"Alright, follow Art for helmets, rope, and harnesses," Mindy directed them, breaking the eerie silence.

"Jesus Christ, I think they just took ten years off my life." Matt ran a hand through his hair, staring at his partner in relief.

"Then they took twenty off mine," Emily answered.

"They so picked the wrong person to use for that example." Matt shook his head, they couldn't tell she was pissed already?

"Hey, they want to see teamwork?" Suddenly she grinned, and leaned close whispering to him. "They can watch you keep me from drawing my weapon on them."

--

Hours later, after each person had climbed up and down the cliff, and they were all sore and tired, they'd moved onto the next activity. Their captors had left them alone long enough to get lunch, so at least they'd gotten a break. With satisfied stomachs, they watched the cheerleaders show them how to fall and allow their partners to catch them.

Emily released a quiet groan, and whispered to Matt. "I had to do this in some high school program, and I was the only one that couldn't do it. I could catch someone else, but I could never fall."

"I promise, I'll catch you," his whispered back, neither really paying attention to the organizers.

She grinned. "You better."

"Alright, now catch your partners!" Mindy shouted gleefully toward them.

This left nine sets of FBI agents to turn toward each other, and with expressions of extreme distaste, demand the other one go first. It was an enormously successful beginning.

"I'll fall first," Matt volunteered, turning around so his back faced his partner.

Emily put her hands up, and called out the requisite 'ready'. Matt responded with the required 'falling', and fell toward her. She stopped his descent with the palms of her hands, and pushed him back to a standing position.

Then there was a crash, and a man cursing, and eight pairs of FBI agents turned to see the ninth pair having failed the trust test. Agent McKenzie was on the ground, shooting a hostile look at Agent Mortimer, both of the Salt Lake City Narcotics Division.

Emily turned back to Matt with that look that he was starting to think of as her 'Emily' look. The one with raised eyebrows, and a tinge of annoyance, that translated roughly to 'are you friggin kidding me'. Though sometimes the look was strong enough that 'fucking' most definitely replaced 'friggin'.

"Your turn," he said.

Looking unhappy, Emily turned around to put her back to him. She listened for his call of 'ready', and replied with her own 'falling'. She let her body tilt backward, but at the last minute, she shifted her feet and ended her fall.

Matt turned her around. "Lehman, what happened?"

"I told you I couldn't do this," she insisted, furious with herself.

"And, I promised I'd catch you...you don't believe me?"

"Of course, I believe you, I know that you won't let me fall, just like I knew Kyle Hannigan in tenth grade would catch me, but that didn't change anything."

"Alright, well what would help here?"

"Other than drugging me?"

Matt chuckled. "I don't think they'd approve of that."

"Alright, alright, let's try this again." Emily turned around, putting her back to him again.

They tried again, and again she failed to let herself fall. Then they tried a third time, and when Emily shifted her feet and stopped her fall, she barely resisted the urge to yank her own hair out.

"Four times a charm, let's go again," Matt directed her.

She didn't argue, but braced herself to fall again. She heard Matt call out his ready, but this time wasn't given the chance to fall. A guy from the group beside them messed up, and knocked into her, sending Emily flying back into her partner.

Matt caught her easily, though the awkwardness of the move cause him to grab her around the middle rather than just brace her with his hands. He righted her, and she turned to face him.

"I told you I'd catch you."

She smiled. "Nice save. Can we just count that as my fall?"

"Sure, why not." He shrugged, if she couldn't fall, she wasn't going to fall. Today at least, he get her to do it this weekend. That would be his mission.

They talked and observed their colleagues for the next twenty minutes, until the cheerleaders called for their attention once again. They still looked overly excited.

"Alright, next thing we're going to do is called Willow in the Wind," Mindy explained, clasping her hands together enthusiastically.

Emily leaned toward Matt. "I'm going to make a terrible pun here, and say I'd love to be gone with the wind."

Matt laughed. "You're right that was terrible."

"Matt," Mindy's voice came back at them. "I need a volunteer, come on over here."

He turned to Emily, shooting her a look similar to the one she'd offered him earlier. He trudged over to Mindy, who pulled out a think black bandana, and tied it over his eyes. Then she walked him back into the crowd.

"Alright, everyone make a tight circle around Matt. Shoulder pressing against shoulder," she instructed. Art and Scott came over, and ushered everyone into the circle.

Emily ended up squished between two rather tall men. Of course, she was one of only two female agents at the seminar, so that wasn't a surprise.

"Okay, Matt is going to fall toward his partner--Emily, hold out your hands and touch him so he knows where you are." Mindy looked toward her.

Emily did as she was told, setting her hands on Matt's back, letting him know she was right behind him.

"Emily, you're going to catch Matt, and pass him to the next person, who will catch him, and pass him on. It doesn't have to go around the circle, you can pass to the person across from you, but you have to make sure they're ready. Call their name before you pass, and don't pass until you hear them say ready. Matt, you keep your body limp throughout this, no catching yourself. And, just say your partner's name when you're ready to start."

"I really drew the short stick on this one," he said instead. His fellow agents laughed, but then the game had to begin. "Emily."

"Ready." He fell back toward where he knew she was, felt her small hands catch him, and heard her call 'Jack', and was being passed to someone else.

Then there were more names, and calls of 'ready', and Matt was being passed around like a cheap hooker. At least that's what he felt like. After a few minutes of passing it became a cheap hooker with sea sickness. His stomach began churning violently with the sensation of rocking back and forth, side to side, going around in an awkward circle. He tried to ignore it, but motion sickness was one of his weaknesses.

Emily noticed something was off. The expression on his face changed, she could see that even with the bandana covering his eyes. When his face went pale, she was worried something was wrong. Then he moaned quietly and she knew something was wrong.

"We've got to stop, something's wrong." Emily moved in from the circle, and caught her partner before anyone else could. "Matt, are you okay?"

"Oh, feel sick," he mumbled, yanking the blindfold off. He stumbled away from the group, Emily assisting him. Art followed them, while Mindy and Scott distracted the rest of the FBI agents.

Matt looked toward Emily, about to tell her he was okay, then he abruptly turned and vomited...all over Art's pants. He hadn't noticed the other man standing beside him. He turned away from the organizer and vomited again into the grass.

"God Matt, are you okay?" Emily still had a hand on his back.

"Yep, I just get motion sick, usually takes a roller coaster and a few chili dogs though." He turned toward Art. "Sorry about your pants, man."

The other man was looking down at himself, appearing a little ill himself. "They'll wash. You better take him back to your hotel. Drink some water, and lay down. It's almost three, so don't worry about getting back here. We'll see you both tomorrow."

They followed Art out of the woods, back to the hotel everyone else was staying at, and left him to change his pants, while they headed to the parking lot. When they reached the car, Emily stopped and turned to Matt.

"Are you done throwing up?"

"Yeah, that should be it for me." His stomach wasn't completely settled, and he was still pale, but he was pretty sure that he'd be fine, now that he wasn't being passed around.

A grin broke out on Emily's face. "We're free."

--

They spent the afternoon in their separate rooms catching up on all the sleep they'd lost while working on the convenience store robberies. Matt hadn't thrown up again, and felt almost back to normal by the time they reached the hotel. No way would they admit that fact to the organizers; no, they were going to enjoy their luck.

Matt received a knock on his door around seven. Emily, he assumed, there to discuss their dinner plans for the evening. When he opened the door he quickly discovered she'd already decided on them. In her arms was a pizza, a six pack, and bag of DVDs.

"Hungry?" She asked.

"Starving, actually." He let her in the room, curious about her much improved mood. "You got beer and movies?"

"Yep, I though we should celebrate our good luck...or your delicate stomach." She smiled.

"Works for me...what movies did you get?" He nodded at the bag.

"Children of Men, Smokin' Aces, and The Pursuit of Happyness." She tossed the bag at him.

"Is that last one a chick movie?"

"No, it's one of those uplifting feel-good things. It's supposed to be good."

"Right, we'll save that one for last," he said, dropping the movies on the bed, and grabbing a bottle of beer.

Emily rolled her eyes at him. That's why she'd picked the other two, that and she couldn't find anything with zombies, which she knew were his favorite. Oh, what you learn about your partner when waiting for HT's to call.

"What kind of beer is this?" It was a dark ale, with a blue and white label, and name he'd never heard of.

"The only kind with screw-off tops."

He chuckled. "Smart woman."

"And don't forget it."

By midnight they were on the third movie, and still parked on the floor. The bed would have been more comfortable, but then, that would have been a little too friendly. The pizza box was empty and since discarded, and only two bottles of beer remained. Matt was actually enjoying the Will Smith movie, while Emily had already drifted off, against his shoulder no less.

He was pretty sure they hadn't started their movie marathon sitting so close together, but must have migrated. They both sat with their legs straight out, and backs against the bed. They weren't quite touching, except for Emily's head on his shoulder. That had been unexpected, though not unwelcome, and that was very bad. Part of him wanted to wrap an arm around her and pull her closer, and that thought made his mouth go dry.

Still, he didn't move her.

He didn't nudge her awake until the movie ended, and he had no other choice, but to wake her.

She came out of her slumber slowly, blinking her eyes, until she realized where she'd fallen asleep. Then she lept up like his shoulder was on fire. "Oh god, sorry Matt."

Through a smile he said, "Didn't bother me, don't worry about it. You snoozed through most of that movie that was supposed to be good by the way."

"Must have been great then." She bit her lip, trying to hide her embarrassment.

He laughed and shrugged. "It was cute."

It grew very quiet, as each negotiator's hard earned conversation skills seemed to inexplicably disappear.

Emily removed her teeth from her bottom lip long enough to regain her basic communication skills. "Well, goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow, maybe we can find another way to get let out of team-building early."

"So long as it doesn't involve me puking, I'm game."

Emily chuckled, and then quickly retreated out the door before things could get awkward again. She flopped down on the bed in her room, and tried not to over think things. She had a habit of over-analyzing everything in her head, especially scary things. You think them out enough, they lose meaning, and stop being scary. Or, you can think your way into lies.

Falling asleep on Matt's shoulder qualified as scary. Realizing how comfortable she'd been with him tonight, that was very scary. The thought that she wanted to get even closer to him, that was really, really bad on top of being very scary.

What was she going to do now?


	12. Chapter 12

"Go to your left, Matt," Emily yelled to her partner.

He turned right.

"No, your other left!" She bit her lip, and watched him make an extremely sharp left, and barely avoid the beach ball in his path. So sharp, he started toward another beach ball.

"No! No! Too far left!" This was ridiculous, and they were already tired.

They'd spent the morning being lectured on teamwork and trust, playing the lamest ice breakers known to man, hugging trees (yes, literally), a three-legged race (which they won), and a few other trust-building activities. Again, they'd been given their freedom for lunch, but had been rounded up quickly after, and sent to play, 'mine field'.

Emily had made it to the end of the obstacle course with only Matt's verbal guidance, and now it was her turn to guide him. He was again in a blindfold, but nobody would be passing him around, so he was confident he'd be fine. He was also halfway through the obstacle course.

"Watch out, you're coming up on something, go right this time. Keep at a slight right angle and you should be safe for a bit!" He was doing okay for now, but it was a fairly long obstacle course.

Other agents were running through the obstacle course with them, guided by their own partners. A few people had fallen during Emily's round, and a few more had fallen this round.

They hadn't shared a word about the night before, and both seemed happy pretending she hadn't accidentally gotten cozy with him. At least she was happy pretending, and Matt was acting normal, so that was enough for her. God, wait until she told Jill she'd passed out on his shoulder, her friend would squeal loud enough to wake all of Phoenix. And, then tell her to bed him.

Again.

"How am I doing, Emily!"

"Good, make a wide right, then a really tight left, and a few feet after that you're done!" She moved from the side of the course to the end, so Matt was running toward her, not beside her.

He made a pretty descent wide right, and sailed smoothly by yet another beach ball. His left was a little loose, but he made that too, and then almost ran right into her. She caught him by the arms, and stopped him in his tracks. He pulled the blind fold off.

"Good job, didn't hit one beach ball."

"Do we play nice enough together to go home yet?" He moaned. His face was flushed, and he titled his head cracking his neck. Emily handed him a bottle of water.

"No, of course not, they aren't finished torturing us." Emily took a sip of her own water, watching the other agents hit the finish line. Matt wasn't the first to finish, maybe the third or forth.

"You were right, this sucks." He sipped his water, and parked himself on a patch of grass.

Emily sat beside him. "What I'd like to know, is how you and Cheryl managed to avoid it for five years, and we haven't even been partnered a year and have to do this?"

"Just lucky I guess."

She snorted, and they sat tiredly and watched their fellow prisoners slowly make it to the finish line. When the last team finished, Scott called their attention again, and announced that they'd be doing the falling games again, but this time they would be falling forward.

"Ready." Emily couldn't have sounded more bored if she'd tired.

"Falling," Matt said. Arms crossed over his chest, he let himself fall forward. What the organizers hadn't anticipated with this activity was the special circumstances for the male-female partnerships.

Matt was falling straight toward his partner's cleavage.

His eyes widened when he realized it, and his face was only inches away when Emily's hands caught him and pushed him back on his feet.

Oh, dear god.

"You okay, Matt? You look a little overwhelmed?" Emily eyed her partner, still holding his arms, unsure if he was steady enough to let go.

"Yeah, just...just, never mind. You're turn."

Emily frowned. "Okay then, let's try this."

They lined up again, and Matt gave her his ready, and Emily announced she was falling. Except, she didn't. She started to, and caught herself.

They tried again, and earned the same result.

"Okay, let's try this. Look into my eyes before you fall, and then keep looking. Don't think, just do, and keep focusing on my eyes," Matt instructed her.

Emily nodded. Her grey-blue eyes found his brown ones easily, familiar after years of friendship, and months of being partners. She stared into his eyes, and found herself remembering the last time they'd stared into each other's eyes so intently. His birthday, when she told him she quit smoking, just before he hugged her.

She heard him say ready, and heard herself say falling, but wasn't really paying attention. She was thinking about that hug, feeling his arms around her, his breath on her neck, and his body warm against hers. Then suddenly, his hands were catching her, and smoothly setting her back on the ground.

"I did it?" Her face twisted in confusion.

"Yep, dropped right into my arms." He was wearing that cocky smile of his, pleased that he'd gotten her to fall.

They didn't have much time to celebrate as Mindy called their attention again. They turned to face her, dreading what else she might have planned.

"Alright folks, our next few activities are designed to demonstrate the importance of eye contact, proximity, and touch in non-verbal communication. First, you're going to stand about ten inches from your partner, facing him or her. You're going to stare into your partner's eyes for one minute, and we're timing you on this one. Get positioned, and start when I say go."

Matt and Emily exchanged a look, this was bound to be interesting.

"Didn't we just do this?" He whispered.

She shrugged. "I guess we're doing it again."

They faced each other, both fidgeting nervously. Emily was nibbling her bottom lip, and Matt was tapping his hands on his thighs. It was sixty seconds, how bad could it be?

Matt focused on his partner's soft grey-blue eyes, and noted that she looked as nervous as he felt. Oh yeah, they'd shared a definite moment before.

Mindy called go, and Matt allowed himself to stare into her eyes, and remember that morning he woke up in her apartment. It was the morning after his birthday. The first thing he'd seen was a bottle of water, and some ibuprofen, which he'd taken without thinking, his head already pounding. Then he'd turned and found Emily sitting at her kitchen table in a silky blue robe, sipping coffee, and reading the newspaper. There'd been a plate with muffins on the table, but she hadn't touched any. He realized that she was struggling with the newspaper, which turned out to be comics, because anything else was too much with a hang-over.

Even looking half-miserable, he still thought she was beautiful. Matt had realized then, that hang-over or not, her apartment was the last place he should have been. He didn't leave though. She gave him a cup of coffee, and they'd shared a muffin, before spending most of the day together. They'd camped out on her sofa, watching a marathon of Batman cartoons on some kids channel, and passing a bottle of advil back and forth. Emily managed to relay to him through her hang-over, the entire biography of Catwoman. He imagined that somewhere in Albany there was a photo album featuring a small, redhaired and dimpled Catwoman with a plastic pumpkin half-full of candy.

"Time!" Mindy's voice pierced through his memory. He blinked, finally turning away.

"Well, that was painless," Emily said, hands in her pockets, teeth in her lip again. Thank god Matt couldn't read minds.

"Yes, not so bad." He looked at the ground, trying to will his dangerous thoughts away.

"Alright, now I want you to grab your partners hands, and stare into their eyes again for another minute. When I say go."

Oh god, Emily thought, could they make this anymore difficult? Matt slid his hands into hers and she held them tightly, noting that both their palms were sweaty.

Now, _that's_ subtle.

But the sweaty palms weren't really the problem, they could ignore those--it was warm, and they'd been running around all day, they sweat. No, it was the look she had seen in Matt's eyes; desire, attraction, maybe even need. More importantly, it was that she knew that look was reflected in her own eyes. This was dangerous.

Sweaty hands gripped together, their eyes met again. In a display of silent communication that would make Mindy and the guys proud, Emily and Matt managed to have a conversation with just their eyes. He saw in her eyes would she'd seen in his, and conveyed that to her, and Emily confirmed that she'd seen it too. They came to the same conclusion.

A heartfelt and resounding, shit.

"Time!" Mindy's voice called again.

They broke eye contact quickly, but their sweat-soaked hands lingered for just a few seconds.

Mindy initiated a discussion on the two exercises, which neither Matt nor Emily contributed to. They stood together, staring at anything but each other, trying to figure out what to do with the revelations of that sixty seconds.

"Okay, face your partners again, this time standing about four feet apart," Mindy instructed them, waiting as they all complied.

This was safe, this was good, Matt couldn't help but think. Distance is what they needed right now. God, he'd _never_ looked at Cheryl that way.

"How does everyone feel now?" Mindy's voice dragged him back out of his head.

People shouted things like disconnected, detached, far away, unfriendly, and unapproachable, much to Mindy's delight. Matt and Emily remained silent, staring at each other, trying to figure out where to go.

"Okay, move to be only two feet away." They all did as they were told, and she started the conversation again. Matt and Emily didn't hear a thing.

Emily was trying to swallow around her suddenly dry mouth, and Matt was struggling to breath slowly so his heart wouldn't beat any faster than it already was.

"Move to only one foot away."

They did. Twelve measly inches. Matt became aware of his heart throbbing in his neck, in his fingertips, in every vein in his body. Heat rushed through Emily's body, and she hoped to god that she wasn't visibly blushing.

"Move to six inches away."

Emily felt a little dizzy, her fingers were tingling. Matt's heart was galloping, threatening to burst out of his body.

"Now three inches away."

They both stopped breathing, and just stared. That desire had rapidly become a need, and it was all they could do not to reach out and touch the other.

"Alright, now back up to a foot."

And then, they could breathe again.

--

The rest of the day proved to be less emotionally stressful for them. There was more touching, a couple of times they were pressed back to back, or toe to toe, but nothing where they were that close, or staring into each other's eyes. There was an interesting game with a mouse trap that didn't go quite as well as the organizers hoped, and left several of the participants nursing aching fingers.

Matt and Emily were released around six, freed to return to their hotel, while everyone else would enjoy a group dinner together. There would likely be more touching and bonding, and they were all too glad to escape it. Tomorrow morning there would be a farewell breakfast, one last lovefest before they could hop on a plane to LA, and beg Cheryl never to make them attend a seminar again.

They got dinner out at a casual local restaurant, and ended their night in Emily's room, watching a movie on TV. They were on the floor again, legs stretched out in front of them, except this time, Emily kept herself at a distance. Matt noticed the change, but didn't take offense. Distance was good right then, especially after the afternoon.

The credits rolled around eleven, and he stretched, pulling his body off the floor, and offering a hand to Emily. He pulled her up to stand beside him, putting their bodies close, and their faces inches apart. She turned and went to move, but Matt kept hold of her hand. He took a chance, pulling her back toward him, looking into her eyes.

Emily's eyes darted around nervously, seeing exactly what he wanted in the deep coffee of his. Her mouth hung slightly open, both in surprise, and as a shortcut to the oxygen her rocketing pulse was reminding her she needed. She breathed, and felt it shudder through her chest.

He was closer, pressing his lips softly to hers for mere seconds, before pulling away offering her the chance to end it before they went further.

Emily didn't think, but let her eyelids slide closed, and tangled both hands in his hair, pulling his face back toward hers, pressing their lips together again. It was a searing kiss that Matt felt all the way to the tips of his toes, one he knew he wouldn't soon forget.

Mouths still sealed together, he lifted her onto the bed, following her as she shimmied back toward the head board. Their clothes came off in minutes, thrown haphazardly to the floor. They'd felt an attraction for years that became stronger the last several months, and was simply unbearable now. Like an addiction, they had to satisfy it.

Matt let his hands wander her body, relishing every inch of the skin he'd resisted touching for so long. Breasts, hips, buttocks, stomach, thighs and in between, her breath quickened, and she gasped as his fingers danced along her body. She arched her back and cried out for more.

She had his ear lobe gently between her teeth, teasing him in what can only be described as sweet misery. Her lips were on his neck, his collarbone, his chest, her tongue darting in and her lips suctioning against his skin. His toes curled, his breath came in fast, desperate gasps, as if he was about to start hyperventilating.

Her hands held tightly to his shoulders, as he finally entered her. Their bodies slick with sweat heaved, their mouths found each other again. Their rhythm increased faster, their breathing became erratic. They chanted to God, called out to each other, until their bodies exploded in spasms, and they collapsed together, bodies shuddering.

Matt rolled off Emily, but kept his head tucked against her collarbone. They laid together, bodies heaving trying to replenish their oxygen supply.

Minutes later Matt finally caught his breath. "Sweet fucking christ."

Emily chuckled. "I second that."

Matt grinned. "Then I did my job."

"Oh god, yes," she breathed out, growing sleepy quickly. She'd be sore tomorrow and they'd both be tired, but it was so much more than just worth it.

Matt yawned catching her drowsy state, and shifted so his head was on a pillow. They were still on top of the sheets and blankets, though the bed wasn't neat anymore. He managed to pull the bedding out from under both of them, and drag it over them. They fell asleep, still a bit tangled together, and neither really caring.

Nothing about work, professionalism, partnerships, or reprimands was going to get through to them, not when all they could think about was how friggin good the sex was.

--

The next evening they were walking out the doors of LAX, both tired and relieved to be home. They'd said very little upon waking up, and hadn't mentioned the line they'd obviously crossed. Neither was angry or upset, they acted normally through the team-building farewell breakfast, and on the plane. Their discussion was generally limited to swapping case notes as they filled in paperwork on the plane.

They walked in comfortable silence to Matt's Mustang, and tossed their bags in the trunk. It should have been more awkward between them, or just...something. The tension seemed to have eased after their rendezvous, which was certainly a nice feeling. Emily shifted in her seat, as Matt steered out of the parking lot, wondering about what came next. It was fantastic sex, that much she knew, but was that it?

She didn't think so. She felt something this weekend, something more than just a desire to jump his bones. Emily knew that something was a big part of what made the sex so great. It was a connection, a deep connection that was both scary and exciting all at once. She wasn't about to call it love, no Emily Lehman did not use the 'L' word, not if she could help it. Too much trouble from that word.

Matt's thoughts weren't too far removed, though his were less pensive and more panicky. He definitely, without question, had the hots for his partner. More than that. It went past physical attraction and an appreciation of really great sex. But, did she feel the same, or was it just a one time thing? Was she just scratching an itch? He didn't think so, but Emily could be pretty hard to read sometimes, mostly when they weren't working.

He swallowed, and concentrated on moving them through the airport traffic. It was always miserable getting out of the airport, especially one like LAX--huge and in the middle of a city. He remembered another time they'd fought airport traffic, on Christmas Eve, picking up her friend, Jill. That had been a great night. Jill was a handful, but seeing Emily socially, relaxed and playful, that had been fun.

He finally made it onto the highway, and looked over at her. She was staring through the windshield, but turned, feeling his eyes on her.

Emily swallowed nervously, and broke the ice. "We should probably talk about last night."

Matt nodded, turning back to the road. "Probably, yeah."

"We work together."

"We do," he agreed.

"If Cheryl found out..." Emily trailed off. She had to be responsible here, at least that was what she kept telling herself, rather grudgingly.

"She'd be pissed." Matt didn't look over, he couldn't let her see that his heart was sinking.

Traffic stopped dead. Emily glanced around, noting the building on either side, several of them part of hotel chains. She sighed. "Matt?"

He looked over, noting her change of tone, and followed her gaze to the buildings. Westin. Marriott. Best Western. Quality Inn. What? He turned back to her abruptly. She was smiling.

Emily cocked an eyebrow. "The Westin or the Marriott?"

Matt swallowed and stared. When traffic finally broke, he turned the Mustang toward the Marriott.

To hell with the consequences.

* * *

_A/N: So, I'm ending this sooner than I originally planned to; an epilogue and this story is officially done. I figure at this point I've gotten them where I need them too, and the epilogue will skip to two years in the future. Other little note, this will be my last Standoff story, look for a longer author's note on that in the epilogue._

_Thank you for reading as always, and thank you Gremlin and 25142903 for the reviews, they are much appreciated._


	13. Epilogue

July 27, 2008

5:15 p.m.

"Ok, thanks," Matt sighed hanging up his cell. "The truck with our furniture is stuck in an accident on the 409, we'll hopefully get it tomorrow."

She looked up from the box she was digging in. "Great. Nothing better be missing when we do get it."

"I'm sure it will be fine," he assured her, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of her face. Every fan they owned was pointed at them, or their four friends helping them move in, but the heat wave was still miserable. All three guys had their shirts off, and the women were rather tempted to lose the shirts and walk around in their bras.

"I know, I'm just hot. When's the A/C going on?"

"Super is fixing it as we speak."

"This is an expensive building, aren't we paying for things like that not to happen?" Everything had been going wrong. The A/C wasn't working, the truck never came, their new closet contraption was missing some of the hardware (Duff was presently occupied with improvising), two glasses already broke, and hot and cold had been reversed on the brand new installed kitchen sink.

Matt shrugged, and rubbed her shoulders.

"Lehman, what the hell is this thing? It's massive." Frank asked, as he pulled a large pannel of wood from the newly pried open box.

"Bookcase."

"Of course it is." Frank shook his head. "You had to shack up with a nerd, didn't you Flannery?"

He grinned. They'd made a deal, Emily could have the biggest bookcase he'd ever seen in his life (outside a library), and he got to keep his big, comfy leather sofa. They were finally moving in together, after over a year of spending almost every night of the week together. Matt, unlike most other guys he knew, didn't worry about his girlfriend pressuring him into marriage. In fact, Emily was more commitment-phobic than any guy he knew, getting her to move into a new place with him had been a challenge.

"Shut up, Frank." Emily grinned and took a few sets of curtains into the bedroom, where Cheryl was on the ladder with a power drill. The guys joked about that for a good ten minutes.

She handed a curtain to Cheryl, and then turned toward the closest. Duff's mouth was in a straight line, his eyes focused on two pieces of white, barred shelving. Lia was standing beside him, an assortment of screws, nuts, and nails in her palm, a dubious expression on her face.

"Everything okay?" Lia shot her a look that was less than convinced.

"Yep, everything's fine," Duff insisted.

"You know Duff, it won't kill us to wait until we get the hardware from the company."

"No need, I'll get this up for you, Lehman." He grinned, absolutely convinced. Lia rolled her eyes.

"Em, I need another curtain," Cheryl called. She obliged.

An hour later

"Flannery, I know what I'm doing! That piece goes here, and this piece connects with it," Frank hissed.

"No, You need to attach this one first, before that one," Matt pointed out, thrusting the wood at his friend.

"No, you do that and the bottom is going to fall out!"

"Well, if you do it your way, the back won't stay on!"

"Easy guys. How about we take a break?" Emily asked gently, removing the wood from Matt's grip for fear that he might actually impale Frank.

Matt nodded. "I'll order some pizzas, I'm sure we're all starving."

"What the hell is going on out here?" Cheryl asked, coming from the kitchen, finally finished getting up the last curtains in the apartment.

"Dinner time," Emily answered, shooting a look at both men. They conceded, and stiffly raised themselves off the floor.

"Sure. Where are Lia and Duff?"

"Still working on the closet."

Cheryl looked concerned. "You sure he's still breathing? Lia wasn't looking happy when I left."

"Yo Duff, you still alive!" Frank hollared.

"And kicking!" Came the muffled reply.

Frank shrugged. "Hasn't killed him yet."

Cheryl rolled her eyes.

* * *

"We were not that bad!" Emily insisted, expression part scandalized, part amused.

They were all lounged on blankets, pillows, and random rugs in living room, anything with a soft surface. Empty pizza boxes sat to one side, and a bag of empty beer bottles on the other. They each had a fresh sweating bottle in their hands, and both fans were turned onto the sextet. Exhausted and hot as they were, they were still laughing and enjoying reliving the last few years.

"Oh, yes you were," Cheryl said. "I quote, 'we even had sex in the office once', and I know he wasn't lying."

Emily turned her head back to look at Matt, whom she was half leaning against. "You and your mouth."

He sipped his second beer, and shrugged. She was wearing a smile, she'd long since forgiven him for blurting their secret. "I say Duff and Lia are worse," he offered.

Lia's eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. "We have never had sex in the office!"

"Yeah, but I did catch you guys necking pretty heavily in the kill house." Frank grinned.

"Okay, I officially command the horniest FBI agents in the country." Cheryl sipped her own beer.

"Two words Cheryl," Emily said, grinning evilly. "Parking garage."

Matt looked back and forth between his girlfriend and former partner. Their friends wore the same curious, albeit confused, expressions.

"It was after hours, not technically in the office, and it wasn't that heavy."

"He had you pressed up against your SUV, like he was literally trying to push you through it." The two women stared at each other, barely keeping the grins off their faces, a friendly challenge between them.

"Come on Lehman, who had our lovely boss up against her vehicle?" Frank demanded.

"Cheryl?" She asked. Cheryl nodded, they were going to find out anyway. "You're all aware that Narcotics got a new SSAC?"

"That Less dick guy left?" Duff chuckled at his girlfriend's intentional mispronunciation. He'd never heard her say his name right, though he knew she knew what it was.

"Lestack, and yes, he was promoted to a position in the Chicago field office."

"Yeah, and his new replacement looks like Taye Diggs," Emily grinned at Lia.

"Hey!" Matt tightened his arm around her in mock offense.

"Relax, I just took on a mortgage with you."

Frank chuckled. "Now that screams commitment like nothing else."

"Shush Frank. Back to the actual topic, I found Cheryl not two weeks after this guy gets here, giving him a full dental exam."

There were giggles and grins exchanged, through which Cheryl kept her cool, and simply responded to Emily, "And to that, I say again: had sex in the office."

"I wouldn't talk yet, Cheryl. Tonsil hockey in the parking garage leads to sex on his desk."

"Speaking from experience there, Matt?" Duff asked.

He shook his head. "Nope, wasn't my desk. Actually, it wasn't near a desk."

"Matt! Stop giving them extra information!"

"Man, please listen to your girlfriend, we don't want the visuals." Frank cringed with much exaggeration.

They continued talking and laughing, and generally carrying on for most of the night. Tired as they were from the move, the time seemed to pass without any of them realizing it. Around four, they finally began dropping off to sleep. They slept pretty much where they'd sat, using the blankets and pillows for cushioning. It wasn't the most comfortable sleeping arrangements, but it was too late and they were too tired to care.

* * *

July 28, 2008

10:30 a.m.

Emily woke the next morning to the still dark living room, minimal light pouring in through the dark curtains Cheryl had painstakingly installed. She raised her head from where it had been cushioned in Matt's chest, and looked around the room. Their closest friends were all still passed out on the living room floor like teenagers at a slumber party. They were all so used to late nights, surviving on minimal sleep, and passing out wherever was convenient that this was nothing to them. She smiled, pressed her face back against Matt's chest for a few seconds, and then dragged herself off the floor.

She walked into the kitchen, suddenly realizing it was much cooler than yesterday. The A/C was working, thank god! Sighing with relief, she filled the coffee pot with water, and located the filters. Quietly, she set-up the coffeemaker, and pulled out mugs, spoons, sugar and cream. They're groceries were minimal at this point, but they had the necessities--namely coffee and coffee fixings, orange, eggs, and some dry goods they were able to take with them from their apartments. She was in the fridge, grabbing the small carton of creamer, when arms came up around her.

She smiled. "Morning."

"Morning," Matt whispered back, kissing her hard on the mouth.

She returned his kiss eagerly. Emily was something in the ballpark of deliriously happy. She felt not just loved by Matt, but secure, in their relationship, their life together, and their future. For the first time in her life, Emily wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop. She wasn't spending the days waiting until he got tired of her job, or found out about her sister. And, she wasn't dreading he'd ask more of her than she was able to give.

"Do you feel it? We've got A/C now," she told him.

"I know, I'm excited. It means tonight we'll get to have sex in bed, not in a cool shower," he said with a suggestive grin.

Emily opened her mouth, in exaggerated surprise. Matt took the creamer carton from her hand, set it on the table, and nuzzled into her neck, tightening his arms around her, and murmuring into her ear. He was as happy as she was, and as comfortable with their relationship. They were actually on the same page, and really, wanted the same things, and wanted them together. She was his best friend, his partner in crime, and the woman he'd fallen completely in love with.

Emily turned around in his arms, and they pressed their mouths together, kissing each other hungrily, oblivious to their waking guests.

"Oh Jesus," a tired and groggy Frank mumbled, as he stumbled into the kitchen. Matt and Emily quickly broke apart.

"Morning Frank," Emily smiled.

"Don't you two think that's a little harsh for first thing in the morning?" It was too early to see his friends making out.

Matt grinned evilly, and kissed his girlfriend again. Frank groaned again, and fell into a seat at the table.

"What?" Cheryl joined them, eyes squinted, still half asleep.

"A night at Casa Flannery-Lehman comes with a floor show." He nodded to their friends, still holding each other.

Cheryl sighed. "Do we need to turn the hose on you two?"

"Nope. I was just about to start breakfast, how does everyone like their eggs?" Emily pulled open the fridge again, and turned to them with a carton of eggs in hand.

Frank grinned. "Rocky style."

She looked to Matt for an explanation. Much like anything with zombies, Rocky was not on her list of Must-See movies.

"Raw, and in a glass so he can drink it down," he offered.

Emily grimaced. "Not in my kitchen, Frank. Scrambled or sunny-side up?"

He chuckled. "I was kidding anyway. Scrambled, I don't like them looking at me."

"Too bad, I was going to put them on a plate with a bacon smile," She teased, and grabbed a bowl to start cracking eggs, while Matt started pouring coffee. Duff chose that moment to stumble into the kitchen, a sleepy Lia in tow, barely awake enough to watch where she was going.

"You guys got someone out there at your door," Duff said, gesturing awkwardly with a thumb.

Matt ran out to see, while Emily continued with the eggs, and everyone picked a wall to lean against, lacking furniture as they were. Matt bounded back after two minutes with an amused look on his face.

"Guess what Em? We've got furniture."

"And only a day late," she answered, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, let's go get it up here, so we have somewhere to eat," Frank said, already heading toward the door.

Everyone, except Emily joined him, rushing out of the apartment to retrieve the furniture from the moving truck. She continued beating the bowl full of eggs, adding in a few spices, and searching for the oil. They'd dragged kitchen supplies with them, fortunately, and she'd never been so glad they all had SUVs. She covered her mouth as a yawn hit her, and set the eggs aside while she searched for plates and forks.

Once everything was gathered and set on the counter, Emily took a moment to just look around their new apartment. Theirs. Hers and Matt's. She grinned; she was content. She heard voices, and turned toward the sound, as the door opened and her friend's talking carried clear into the kitchen.

Content wasn't quite right; she was damn happy.

* * *

_Okay, so this is it. This is the last chapter of my last Standoff fic, and I have to say a little something to my readers. I owe you all a very big, very heartfelt THANK YOU. I will admit when I posted the first chapter of 'Positive' (my first Standoff fic), I was terrified. Nervous wreck fit a little too well for the duration of that entire story. First I was scared no one would like it, and then I was so scared I'd screw it up, and disappoint everyone._

_I soon discovered that Standoff viewers are some of the kindest, most encouraging people on the internet. You all liked that one, so I wrote another and another, and you still just kept asking for more. Some of you stuck around for months (even years), some of you came and went, but every review I received meant a great deal to me, and still does. So, I want to thank you all for reading my stories, and for taking the time to tell me that you enjoyed them. Because of you all, I've gotten some wonderful practice writing, and I've developed enough confidence to actually write a novel, and attempt a career at writing. _

_Special thank you's go to Tjmack, Slplady, Gremlin, mariedawn, detective-giggles, wilddaisy, Cindy Ryan, ACM Rocks, Cinderella, twin*muse, TJ Cullen, Bite Beccy, Squinter, and hunnielove._

_And, an extra special thank you goes to Keavy, who, on top of reviewing my fanfic, I know won't ever let me give up on the book, or let me believe it's anything less than stupendous for that matter.  
_

_Thank you!_


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